To Those About to Die
by GuiltyRed
Summary: COMPLETE! The game is afoot! The hunters from Rosenkreuz are about to find Schwarz, but...do they want to?
1. Author's Notes & Prologue

**Author's Note:**

The idea for this story came from other fanfictions dealing with Rosenkreuz, and the confusing mess that was "Gluhen". (Apologies to any "Gluhen" fans, but you gotta admit, it was pretty confusing! I hear that the drama CDs aren't much better. My world spans the time between the original television series and Gluhen without their help.)

If you ever wondered about the shadowy institution whence came Schwarz, I strongly recommend you read "Rosenkreuz, Sweet Rosenkreuz" and "Once Upon a Nightmare", IMHO two of the BEST fics ever written. These fine stories describe a world of darkness never really explained in the show, and I think their parallel descriptions of Rosenkreuz are quickly becoming accepted as fanon. (I don't think they're from canon; if I'm wrong, apologies!) I owe my world to those fics, with my humble thanks.

"Weiss Kreuz: Gluhen"... Ah, me. Plotholes, my friends. Plotholes. And cheese. Lots of cheese. The story could have made more sense, and if someone out there has taken on the task of a rewrite I'd love to see it.

But for myself, I was drawn to the characters who only showed up to get whupped on. The three "Rosenkreuz goons" that turn up for the final showdown are an enigma. They are badly written and, for the most part, badly drawn as well. They are treated like old-fashioned comic-book villains for their short term in the show, even more so than Schwarz ever was: did you get a load of those matching outfits?? oO

So, if you will indulge me, I would like to present...their story.

It's not what you'd expect.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Weiss Kreuz" or "Gluhen", or any characters therein. Though, I would fight the owner two falls out of three for Berger and Geisel, who really got it bad. (They can keep Layla, though.)

Claimer: I DO own Karl, Toni, and Roderik.

Lots of reinterpretation, from the costuming to the dialogue, as well as a bit of creative name changing -- not like the names were well-translated in the dubbed version anyway! Shounen-ai, with a hint of lemon.

**To Those About to Die...**

_Said the sphinx to the Angel: For what will a man knowingly surrender his life?_

_And the Angel replied: The selfish man will run when there is no gain to be had. The brutish man will turn if there is no favor to be won. The hungry man will flee if there is no possibility of food. But the man driven by love will not yield so long as there is hope._

_Cruxshadows – Ethernaut  
_

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****

**Prologue**

Rosenkreuz. My life began there, in a way. I was nobody until the man came to claim me, and thereafter I belonged to him. And to Rosenkreuz.

I don't remember my parents. The whispered gossip among the women at the orphanage held that I was an accident, that I had no real father, and that my mother had left me lying in the snow for them to bury. The powerful gift stirring in my head brought me different, unspoken versions: a woman raped and disgraced, arranging to leave the infant in the care of the church; a train wreck from which I miraculously escaped; a virgin birth. The bored and the sheltered will always have more interesting views of reality than the schooled and the socialized. This knowledge gave me power at an early age.

When the man came, I knew my life was about to change. I was six years old.

He gave me a name, but only one name: Berger.

Herr Sunder made me his son, and his protege. He told me about the school where he worked as a teacher, a strange and fine school dedicated to bringing children and knowledge together as no other school in the world could do.

I was terrified.

The Rose Cross, the Bloody Cross: a school for murder. I picked up its true nature at once. Lies and half-truths had always been as transparent as glass to me, and even a seasoned telepath could not keep me from knowing his hidden meaning and agenda.

I was powerful. He wanted the prestige that would come from owning me. It was that simple.

Still, I had nowhere else to be, so I went.

To Rosenkreuz.


	2. Chapter 1 Becoming

**Author's Note:**

Kasra, thank you for your review, by all means archive my stuff on your site! Let me know if you want to wait till it's all uploaded or nab it chapter by chapter; either way is fine with me.

**Chapter One -- Becoming**

I lived with my adoptive father for six years. During that time, I attended classes that didn't seem terribly sinister or even significant. I learned German and Russian, mathematics, physics, self defense and world politics. I also learned psychology, but not from any textbook. The people around me were fascinating, and all so terribly bent on the inside. It was so easy for me to see their sins, their pains, their fears. Fully half of the teachers were perverts of one kind or another, and at least a third of those were predators as well. As for the students...

By the time I was eight I understood the real power of Rosenkreuz. And made myself immune to it.

The same things that had kept me unwanted in an orphanage now played to my advantage. My spooky stare held the other children at bay, while my coarse appearance hid me from the eyes of the sodomites. They sought the pretty boys, the ones with fair skin and angular cheekbones, large innocent eyes and soft thick hair. I had none of these things, and so I survived. My "father" was, fortunately, not among the predatory types, though he spared no fatherly affection for me, either. I was property, and so long as I remained respectful and diligent, I would be appreciated.

Once I turned twelve, he sent me to live with the other students, in a large, sparse dormitory. I learned insomnia quickly. There were only a few of us who had been raised by teachers; the vast majority had been found and brought when they neared puberty and their powers began to manifest in earnest. Some had been kidnapped, some had been bought. All were in the process of becoming what Rosenkreuz demanded of them.

My talents grew, and became identified as something a little bit rare even among the gifted. Not only could I read minds and emotions, and influence both to some degree, I could cause sensory hallucinations as well. The teachers called me an "illusionist". It's as good a word as any, I suppose, though "interesting weapon" would be closer to the truth. They trained me to use this mix of talents to confound people in combat. I trained myself to use it to become invisible unless I wanted to be seen.

Though I was only twelve, my talents propelled me into advanced classes with older telepaths and empaths. Illusionists were so rare we didn't have our own classes; we had to learn by extrapolation from other disciplines. My "father", whom I still visited for dinner on Sundays as they allowed it, told me it was a high honor to be in these advanced classes. What he meant was, "If you survive this, you will be more powerful and I will be honored." He threw me to the wolves. I began seeking excuses on Sundays.

The students in these classes ranged from 16 to 19 years of age. Most were being groomed for field work, and most were thoroughly inhuman. Rosenkreuz had reshaped them into tools of its own design. I began to truly understand fear. Their minds were twisted where they were not broken, and nightmare demons hovered close by. The psyche of the wakeful is different from that of the dreamer, but in many of these students that difference had been erased. Desire and intention became one. This would be danger at its finest for such a young boy, but I would face it without flinching. Throw me to the wolves, "papa"? Then I shall become a wolf as well.

I was lucky, I suppose, in that I was a tall and ungainly youth. I had the body of a fifteen year old, so I didn't immediately look like easy prey. My martial arts skills were formidable; they were my armor. My mind was my weapon, though a fragile one. Against other mental-based talents, it would be a contest of will, and against a straight-up telepath, it would be touch-and-go at best.

The empaths were at once better company and worse tension than the telepaths. They lived on pins and needles, always passively picking up feelings and sensations from those around them. They couldn't turn it off. This did, however, have the fortunate effect of ensuring that I would not be harmed by them, for they couldn't bear the repurcussions of violence.

One of the empaths actually befriended me for a short while. He was preparing to join a field team, but he spared me a little of his time. Karl talked to me about the world outside the gates, a world he longed to see again. Somehow, this gentle empath had not been broken or twisted too badly, and his reward for surviving Rosenkreuz would be travel with a team. He never told me what sort of team, though his eyes looked dim and distant when he spoke of them, as though the idea were, at its most basic level, distasteful to him. Karl was no assassin; no empath can be one and remain sane. And Karl was determined to remain sane.

Let me emphasize something here: we were friends, not lovers. At age twelve, I was still a virgin. Well, in the most crucial sense of the word, anyway. My combat skills and my mind talents helped ensure my continuing to remain so until I wanted it to change. That, and Karl was no rapist. There were, essentially, four kinds of students in Rosenkreuz, and I'm not referring to their talents. There were predators, prey, invisibles, and poisons. The predators were bullies, rapists, extortionists; the prey were...prey. Invisibles were ignored by both, and poisons were shunned out of a sense of self-preservation. I was invisible.

And I was observant. When I saw my friend Karl sneaking into a room to meet with another student, I paid attention. It was not out of misguided chivalry on my part; Karl could take care of himself. Since I knew Karl, this other young man might intrude into my life as well, and I wanted to know who he was. I caught a brief glimpse before the door shut, and I recognized him from one of my other high-level classes. Though I didn't know his name, that flaming red mane was unmistakable, and that one was trouble.

If he knew he had been seen, he made no indication. Classes with the telepaths continued as they had been, and the red-head continued to be utterly indifferent when he wasn't being utterly disdainful. He had the look of prey, but I knew he was poison. And so I stayed away.

I did ask Karl once who he was meeting with. He smiled softly and told me it was just a friend, someone else about to leave the facility and join a team. The red-head, it seems, had already been placed and was only waiting for official transfer. He would leave several months before Karl. Word had it that his team leader would be one of the rare male clairvoyants, and one of the more rare "blank zones": someone who canceled someone else's talent. The red-head was such a powerful telepath that he was at high risk of losing himself. This clairvoyant, a man named Crawford, created a blank zone where the telepath could more easily shield himself from the world. Whether he could read the clairvoyant, no one said. Whenever such a coincidence occured, where two students meshed so neatly, they were almost always placed together.

I didn't know if I would ever need such information, but I tucked it away in my memory, just in case.


	3. Chapter 2 Graduation

**Chapter Two -- Graduation  
**  
So much has happened these past years. From a gangly twelve-year-old with unmemorable features I have grown into a tall young man of seventeen, unmistakable in any crowd. Broad across the chest, narrow through the hips, long face framed by longer hair of a color not frequently seen in nature -- I was invisible no more.  
  
World events had taken an upward spiral, escalating in violent intensity. Within Rosenkreuz, rumors flew about a secret rite, something coming that would ensure our place as master of the new world. Well, master in the sense that the landlord's dog handler was called master of hounds, anyway. No one was quite sure when it would be, or even whether it were already past, but we all knew it would somehow change our lives forever.  
  
This was going to be bad.  
  
Student factions grew, changed, and cliques became more cutthroat than they had ever been before. I mourned the loss of my friend Karl; bare months after his fire-haired consort had left with his team, Karl lay dead at the hands of his own leader-trainee. Students had begun brazenly picking their own teams by elimination, and Karl was too gentle for that one's liking. Alone, I faced the growing chaos that was Rosenkreuz.  
  
Violence, ever present just beneath the surface like a quiescent volcano, broke through the cracks and erupted where the structure was weakest. Some students took to keeping firearms and other weapons on them at all times. I was one of them. I am no clairvoyant, I have never had a hint of that gift, but something was on the wind, and it frightened me. Change was coming, and it rode a pale horse.  
  
Days and dates are not freely known within the confines of the Bloody Cross, but I know it was April. "April is the cruellest month..." I don't know who wrote that, but I had seen it scrawled on a desk once. If I could read objects I would know, but I now prefer to imagine that the notorious Brad Crawford had written it there, once upon a time, when he was but a student and dreams of a red-haired telepath called The Guilty One were still years away.  
  
It was April when our world ended.  
  
I had been picked for a team, and had only briefly met the other three. We would begin team orientation and training in a few months: the pyrokinetic with wild spiky hair, the brooding telepath, and the...handsome...telekinetic who would be our leader. I had never felt so odd around anyone in my life, but this man, Toni... It was as if my heart couldn't remember its rhythm.  
  
Toni and a number of other leader-types had been sent on special missions. I remember thinking it was very odd, that so many would be off-premises on the same day.  
  
It was early afternoon. The instructor was to lecture on current events and political structures relevant to those about to go into team training. When he paused in his rambling speech, I felt my skin crawl. Something was very wrong.  
  
The instructor resumed his speaking, pacing casually to the door. He dropped a hand to the lock and turned it. His back was to us.  
  
I hit him with everything I had even as he turned around and leveled the assault rifle at the class.  
  
Screams.  
  
Gunfire.  
  
The shattering of glass.  
  
Distant combat echoed throughout the facility, matched by the chaos in my classroom. The instructor, mind struggling against mine, fired blindly for a few moments before I landed on top of him and broke his neck. I took the rifle and covered myself with its threat as I assessed the situation. Five dead, seven more wounded, all cowering or simply stunned and immobile. One young man looked back at me, coherent in spite of the shock.  
  
"Do you have your weapon?"  
  
He shook his head. I tossed the assault rifle to him and drew my own gun. I knew he would not attack me. This was something...premeditated. The instructors were purging the facility. But why?  
  
We organized the students in our room and tried to evaluate the conditions without. The students in this class were of all talents, and I planned to use that to our full advantage. I set the telepaths to searching for other pockets of resistance. The one healer I forced to see to the injured; he was rapidly shutting himself down and did not want to cooperate. A gun to the temple works wonders on such men.  
  
"Those with guns, come with me. The rest of you, lock this door. If they come, try the window." And we went out. Though I was not in leader training, I was, as I have said, observant. And a keen student of psychology. I could lead better than any in that class, so I did.  
  
We hunted down those who would have slain us. Along the way we incorporated all able-bodied students capable of rebellion and found safe places for the weak to hide. Some wanted to execute the cowardly, but I reminded them that even the craven have their uses.  
  
If nothing else, they could draw fire.  
  
Within the hour it was done. Nearly all instructors lay dead, some by their own hand. I do not know if my "father" was among them, nor do I care. I had done what he wanted me to do.  
  
I had become a wolf.


	4. Chapter 3 New Order

**Author's Note:** _That quote Berger found written on the desk was from T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land, part I. The Burial of the Dead":  
April is the cruelest month, breeding  
  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
_  
_Memory and desire, stirring  
  
Dull roots with spring rain. Yes, I can easily imagine a young Brad Crawford writing this on a desk at Rosenkreuz. Writing very small. And using indelible ink.  
  
_

* * *

**Chapter Three -- New Order  
**  
Rosenkreuz refused to die.  
  
Though the instructors and the structure of its world were shattered, it remained alive through the legacy of broken souls and violence it had instilled in each of us.  
  
The students had become the instructors. We taught each other how to fight and how to survive. Those proficient in languages taught those able to learn. Those proficient in their talents taught the novices. And those proficient in the dealing of death taught everyone.  
  
Determined to be owned no longer, we traded our masters for a new set and congratulated ourselves on our freedom. The irony was nauseating.  
  
They say chaos is made up of change and opportunity. Change we had. Opportunity followed, in an unexpected form. We all knew that Rosenkreuz was part school and part laboratory. I don't think any of us quite understood the connection between the two. During the Purge, the main part of the labs had gone up in flames, destroying the experimentation ward and the punishment cells and everything within. But the clinic, located far enough from the labs to be almost innocent, housed the records.  
  
A crowd of students paused by the clinic doors to watch as a healer, I don't know his name, went loudly and decisively mad. He planted himself in the hallway, screaming and gesturing like an evangelist, but instead of religious tracts he flung fistfuls of discs and papers in the faces of those who had come to witness. A thin green folder fluttered apart and landed at my feet.  
  
When is a surprise not a surprise? When it is something done at Rosenkreuz. The papers and discs revealed part of the truth.  
  
The school was the laboratory. Social controls, mind control, gene therapy, immunology, psi enhancement strategies: these were all part and parcel of the training of psionic operatives that was the cornerstone of Esset. The inoculations and other medical treatments we had all received at one time or another had served multiple purposes. I learned that not only was I immune to malaria, I was also carrying a low-level dose of radiation in my spine. Most telepath sorts were.  
  
We found damn little documentation on the long-term effects of such things. I only knew that I wanted it out of me. I knew it was only imagination, but after learning what chemicals I carried inside my body, I felt increasingly sick. It was like discovering a time bomb in one's stomach.  
  
Rosenkreuz healers were healers in name only, as they had the ability to heal but the training to inflict other effects. After a hurried survey of the experimentation documents, the healers closed ranks, expelled those unwilling to take the next step, and set to work isolating and removing the contaminants from one another. Once they had it figured out, they opened the doors for the rest of us. I suppose that was their way of seeking penance.  
  
It was excruciating. But it was done.  
  
Student after student submitted to the procedure in the hopes that it might reverse the damage already done. The healers spent nearly as much time cleaning up and decontaminating as they did actively pulling the poisons out of us. The substances they removed ranged from solvents to inert chemicals to radioactive elements. None could say what the long-term health effects of those toxins might be. We could all be walking dead men. It didn't much matter; Rosenkreuz never intended us to have long and fruitful lives: long was obviously not an option, and fruitful had been sabotaged. We were all effectively sterile. Somehow, the knowledge that they would not allow psi talents to breed made me wonder what else they had in mind.  
  
The healers worked until they passed out from fatigue, then rested and worked more. Though we searched the records, we never did discover the intention behind the toxins, though many speculated that the daily "vitamin supplements" we had been given served to counteract any damage. Perhaps it was a way to keep us loyal. It had a certain dark logic to it: betray the fold and die a lingering death.  
  
I tried not to think about it too much.  
  
About two weeks after the Purge, some of the leader-elect students returned to the facility. But only some. I suspect that the widespread murder extended past Rosenkreuz, enveloping all layers of the Esset substructure. Of course, in the chaos, I am certain that some of the ones who did not return had, instead, escaped. Whether they would remain free depended on the judgment of the new lords of the manor. Esset, too, refused to die.  
  
And we all knew that Esset owned Rosenkreuz, and every living thing within its foul walls.  
  
It was a race against time. If we could prove to our masters that we were more capable than the dead had been, perhaps we would survive to taste freedom someday.  
  
As for the leaders-elect, when they came they brought news.  
  
The ceremony had, in fact, begun weeks ago, somewhere in Japan. According to the beliefs of Esset, the rite was to bring an ancient demon-god back from beyond death to rule a world of their making. But the ceremony had been foiled, and now the three High Elders of Esset lay dead and decomposing in the Pacific Ocean.  
  
Eight men were responsible.  
  
Eight men.  
  
A mere eight men had torn down that which had taken centuries to build. They had broken the spine of Esset, and crippled Rosenkreuz.  
  
And four of the eight were alumni.  
  
Brad Crawford.  
  
Farfarello.  
  
Naoe Nagi.  
  
And Schuldig, The Guilty One, the telepath with flaming red hair.  
  
Inwardly I cheered.  
  
Officially, the new rulers of Rosenkreuz proclaimed the four outlaw. It was whispered by some that Esset feared the four, that those capable of destroying the Elders would never stop until all of Esset had fallen. Others speculated that they had stolen the magic of the Triad and it must be taken back. I figured that Esset did not appreciate the bloody nose dealt it, and would slay them out of spite.  
  
All available teams would be sent to find them and make them pay for what they had done. Surely they could not hide long from the coordinated might of Rosenkreuz.  
  
In the end, it would take eight years to find them.

* * *

Reviews, please? 


	5. Chapter 4 Toni

_Author's Note_:  
  
_This chapter contains graphic shounen-ai material necessary to the story, raising it to an "R" rating. Please, read on..._

**Chapter Four -- Toni**  
  
His eyes had betrayed his joy at finding me alive, as had mine in seeing him again.  
  
We were to move into an apartment, the four of us, and begin training as a team under the new terms set forth by the student rulers of Rosenkreuz. Those young despots were more reasonable and yet more strict than the old regime. They insisted that every capable operative make ready to hunt down the four renegades, and train for that purpose alone. Their rabid single- mindedness amused me, until I gave it some thought and realized that, if we could take out Schwarz, we could take on the world. They were grooming us as an elite strike force for conquest. And they would tolerate no distractions.  
  
Still, the heart cannot so easily be chained. While the intention was to prepare a small army of cold-blooded killers and scatter them to pivotal locations throughout the world, some of those killers were training themselves to become human beings. I thought of my gentle friend Karl; his other friend, his red-haired confidant, had had the strength to do the impossible. Was there some critical connection between the two? If there were, it would not be for any reason of which Rosenkreuz would approve.  
  
And suddenly, to me, the approval of Rosenkreuz did not seem so terribly important anymore. At some point in time I had become a man, and my will was still my own.  
  
Understand, humanity is not encouraged at Rosenkreuz: feelings and desires are manipulated so thoroughly there that one can never be certain that those feelings are in fact one's own. This produces a certain fragility of mind, a willingness to either be led by the strong or to impose one's will upon the weak. Somehow I had not become so fragile.  
  
If I were still at Rosenkreuz, I am certain they would have worked harder to break me.  
  
But I was no longer at Rosenkreuz. My team was housed off-premises now, under the distracted eye of Esset. I could almost taste freedom, and it was intoxicating.  
  
And the embodiment of that freedom was Toni. Darkly handsome Toni, with his brilliant and honest grin. Though he never spoke of his past, I believe he was French. It didn't matter. Nor did it matter that I towered over him; I towered over many people. He became the focus of my life, a most singular and exhilirating obsession.  
  
I cast aside the shackles on my heart and allowed myself desire. But how to proceed? I knew little of my own expectations, and had no idea whether he returned my interest. The tension enflamed me; I feared I would go mad with the waiting.  
  
Fate would not allow me to suffer long. One day it happened. He kissed me. Just so, sucking at my lower lip a little to the left of center. I felt all breath leak out of me. His eyes locked on mine, and then he took me by the hand and led me to his room.  
  
Our two teammates were out, supposedly getting to know the area. They were due back in an hour. Time enough.  
  
Just eighteen years of age and still fundamentally a virgin, I allowed him to take the lead. His hands and mouth brought me to life with a surge of desire almost electric in its intensity. My clothes fell where he flung them. We stood there a moment, nude as David, and stared at one another with unconcealed hunger.  
  
Toni guided me to lie beside him on the narrow bed, and I complied. My belly felt tense and queasy with excitement. I wasn't sure how this would play out, but I wanted whatever he had in mind to give me.  
  
He lay on his left side, his head pillowed on his arm. His right hand explored my face, my neck, my chest. His breath puffed softly against my closed eyelids; he was nearly panting, and so was I. As his hand trailed downward, I moaned in anticipation. I had been touched before, but never by someone I wanted as much as Toni.  
  
When his fingers curled slowly around my erection, my hips bucked upward and I cried out. I could sense he was smiling. He gripped me firmly, tugging as he stroked. His hand was warm, not soft, and strong. I must have been projecting because I heard him whimper as he speeded up a little. But only a little; then he slowed his hand again, and I was the one whimpering.  
  
I came too fast, crying out and clinging to his arm for support. I was so excited that I remained hard within his fist. He gave an approving squeeze, then moved to grasp my shoulder. He pulled me toward him, and I understood what he wanted. I stared into his eyes. They were dilated and hot; his thoughts were loud.  
  
He guided me to mount him, and heaven exploded around me. My gift of empathy joined our minds even as sex joined our bodies. I groaned as I thrust into him, felt his ecstasy, felt the thick heat of flesh penetrating, pressing... I thought I would faint, the sensations were so powerful.  
  
Toni lifted his legs and pulled me closer. I trembled violently and thrust like a beast, harder and deeper, feeling every thrust as both given and received. Sweat dripped from my face to shatter upon his chest.  
  
I felt his body tighten beneath mine, and my climax hit moments before his. In those seconds, my world collapsed inward to include only the two of us; even the bed was not real for me. His soul resonated with mine. Tears fell with sweat.  
  
After that day we were inseparable. Most times he would pull me atop him, but sometimes he took me instead. Those times were more gentle and focused, without the maddening sensation echo that my mounting him always brought. The feel of myself around his cock was muffled by the feel of my cock against his belly, so I could stay in the moment a little more clearly.  
  
Our teammates quickly figured out we were having an affair. The pyrokinetic, Geisel (who preferred to go by "Kiko" though I don't know why), seemed to think it was cool. The telepath, Roderik, seemed to find it distasteful, though I knew he and Kiko were doing more than reconnaissance together. Neither spoke of it directly, but Kiko sometimes flashed me a "thumbs up" gesture as I slipped into Toni's room.  
  
In those months, I felt truly free.  
  
We had moved to Berlin, to carry out surveillance on a former Esset enclave that was now of dubious loyalty. It was November, almost my birthday. I would soon be nineteen.  
  
Returning from a solo jaunt, I entered the common room of our apartment and froze.  
  
Toni. Face down.  
  
Blood.  
  
Roderik.  
  
Gun.  
  
"He was weak," Roderik informed me, voice dripping with contempt. "Not leader material. You answer to me now."  
  
Roderik ordered Kiko to dispose of the body. The young pyrokinetic avoided my gaze.  
  
I covered my mirror, avoiding my gaze as well.  
  
When I closed my eyes, I could feel his mouth upon mine, sucking a little at the lower lip, right there, just to the left of center.  
  
I drew a deep breath and cleansed my thoughts. Roderik was a telepath, and he would be watching me closely. I would not follow Toni to the grave, though my heart screamed to do only that. He deserved better.  
  
He deserved vengeance. 


	6. Chapter 5 Team

**Chapter Five -- Team  
**  
Four days.  
  
Four days of hiding my love for lost Toni.  
  
Four days of waiting.  
  
To Roderik, I must have seemed the perfect Rosenkreuz drone: diligent, obedient, and unattached. I deferred to him in all things, as was proper for his position.  
  
He brought in his replacement for Toni. She was small and feral, and all too pleased. It was obvious that Roderik and Layla were fucking. It was also obvious that they dismissed me as queer and weak, only slightly less so than Toni.  
  
Good.  
  
Kiko believed in survival. While in Rosenkreuz, he was prey. One of those who bent over for the stronger ones and fled the truly deranged. I knew he bent over for Roderik. It didn't matter. I knew also that he grieved the loss of Toni, if for no other reason than sympathy for me. Still, he allowed nothing within his control to endanger his life, and so he remained silent, emotionally as well as vocally. He ignored all, while missing nothing.  
  
Four days.  
  
I met with Roderik in the living room at his request. Beneath my feet I could almost feel the imprint of Toni's body in the carpet. Roderik must have been reading me, for he began to turn, a dangerous look to his face.  
  
Toni had possessed a very nasty weapon. It was originally a semi-automatic pistol, but he had modified it to accept a large clip and to fire as fully automatic. Hold down the trigger and the clip would empty within fifteen seconds.  
  
Roderik's body collapsed in a limp heap. The top of his skull had been sheared clean off.  
  
Running footsteps sounded beyond the doorway as I slammed a fresh clip home. I leveled the gun at my remaining teammates. Kiko slid to a halt, nearly overbalancing and pitching forward as his momentum followed him around the corner. The girl backpedaled from the grisly sight and stood there, mouth and eyes wide open.  
  
I trained the gun on her rather than on Kiko. It was a gamble, but I knew I had to take the chance.  
  
"Are you with him," I asked, prodding the lifeless corpse with my foot, "or with me?"  
  
No trace of hesitation, Kiko held his hands up in a placating gesture and said, "I'm yours, Berger."  
  
The Girl scowled darkly. "I'm not dying today. No one is worth that."  
  
"Good. Kiko, if you would. Before it starts to stink."  
  
I notified headquarters of Roderik's misfortune. They notified me of my promotion. Ah, well. Teams were going out with three members lately anyway. And I was qualified to lead. Not my preferred position, but I wasn't about to follow her, and Kiko was too much of a flake to be a leader.  
  
The following day, I left the two alone, hoping that they would both be alive when I returned. Well, hoping that Kiko would be alive, at any rate, and the building not burned to the ground. I had a personal errand to attend to.  
  
The salon was small, chill and dimly lit, and smelled vaguely antiseptic. I paid in advance, then obediently took the proffered seat.  
  
I closed my eyes. Damn them all if I would keep my heart's only possession hidden any longer. As the cold metal clamp closed upon my lip, I let memory wash over me.  
  
Toni, soap-fresh and smiling, cupping my face in his strong, warm hands. The sweet smell of his breath as he laughed against my mouth. The heat of his lean body against mine.  
  
When the needle pierced through my lip, I felt his kiss, the way he sucked at that spot, just there, to the left of center.  
  
As the cool metal ring slid into place, the tears finally came. The poor fellow setting the hoop would no doubt think he had hurt me, but no matter. I knew the truth. I would always wear Toni's kiss, just there.  
  
To the left of center. 


	7. Chapter 6 Musings

**Chapter Six -- Musings**

"Geisel, you bitch!"

My hand paused just above the doorknob. For one moment I considered turning and walking away. It would be easy, and it would solve nothing.

I opened the door; a vase hurtled past my head to shatter beside the doorframe.

The Girl stood panting, fury etched in every fibre. Her hair and clothes were in disarray, and her face was flushed.

Kiko stood opposite her, wearing only a towel and a smirk.

"Team, stand down," I commanded, my voice carefully neutral to hide my displeasure. We had to start working as a team, the three of us, or Rosenkreuz was bound to send replacements.

Kiko started to speak around his grin, then his gaze fell upon my piercing and his expression softened. "Sorry, Berger," he mumbled.

The Girl scowled darkly at me. "Berger, what the hell is that? It's hardly appropriate for a team leader to --"

"Mädchen, that is not your place to say." I glared down at her, murder in my heart.

She pouted and changed the subject. "I have a name, you know."

My face betrayed my incredulity at her request, and my reply fell from numb lips: "I don't care." I turned and strode past the two of them and into the kitchen.

As the door swung shut behind me, I groped for a chair and fell heavily into it. Reaction too long denied flooded through me. I couldn't stop shaking, and tears barely restrained threatened to drown me. I gasped for air. _Oh, Toni! She was the reason you were killed, to make way for that bitch. How could I work with her, knowing this? And now she's trying to seduce Kiko, trying or succeeding, and when will she convince him to turn against you too?_

Calm, Berger. Calm down. I forced myself to breathe, to sit straight and just breathe. There was nothing more the Girl or anyone could do to Toni now. He lived only in my memory, and there I would keep him sacred and safe.

But to do this, I had to go on.

And to go on, I had to figure out how to yoke together a reluctant threesome bent on self destruction.

A troika bound for Hell.

I rose from my chair. Coffee would be a good excuse for the length of my absence, though I could sense that the Girl was no longer in the apartment, and Kiko no longer in the main room.

The only thing that could bind us to one another was our mission. I had to discern the motivation of the other two, figure out whether they hunted the renegades out of pride, greed, or compulsion. As the steaming coffee filled the carafe, I nodded to myself. First, figure out who they really were, then the motivation will make itself known.

Wait. Was I referring to my own team, or to Schwarz? I frowned as the implications of that thought sank in._ Figure out who they really were..._ In my memory I could still see the red-haired telepath with Karl, smiling together, sneaking into an empty room. _Then the motivation will make itself known..._

I poured a cup of coffee and tried to ignore the stray grounds floating in it. Distracted, I made a sandwich and carried both back to the main room. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was close to understanding something, something critical.

On the shelves lay stacks of folders, dossiers on the target and related materials. We had each read them enough to have the damn things half memorized by now. Still... My hand lingered over one stack, then reached into the middle and pulled out one thick file. _You are in here, my friend, and I will find you._

Mastermind. Not the kind of name I would recommend for an ego case, but the choice had not been mine to make.

I held file number two of sixteen. Three centimetres thick.

What was I missing? What were we all missing that had allowed this rebel to remain at large for nearly eight months?

Who was Schuldig? And what moved him to run? Another man might have returned to Rosenkreuz, fresh from the kill of the Elders, and proclaimed himself part of the next rule. If this were not possible, he could have sold his team over to buy his own safety. Nearly any other man would have.

No one knew what might have happened had Schwarz returned as conquerors rather than fled as exiles. Considering the nature of Esset, they would probably have been welcomed in and spent the rest of their lives waiting for another hotshot team to come after their power. They would have lived in the ease and luxury they had become accustomed to in Japan.

But they chose exile over conquest. They were not living in luxury; they had vanished off our collective radar. Why? What possessed them to take this road, a road of certain hardship and flight?

What kind of man turns away from the power of an easy victory?

My coffee had gone cold, but I drank it anyway. An odd idea tickled the back of my mind. I had always known that Rosenkreuz did not exist for the welfare of humanity or the nurturing of the soul, rather the opposite, in fact. Perhaps the men of Schwarz saw no benefit in such a place.

Perhaps, for some, it is better to serve in Heaven than to rule in Hell.

I set the file down and finished off my lunch without tasting it. I was an operative of Esset, leader by circumstance of a field team assigned to apprehend the team called Schwarz. It would not do to admire the target. That could jeopardize everything.

And yet...


	8. Chapter 7 Frustration

**Chapter Seven -- Frustration**

The snow fades, the trees consider the approach of spring, and it has been one year since the renegades destroyed the world I had come to know as mine.

I set the folder aside in disgust. Month after month Esset sent updates, month after month the piles of useless information grew higher. New teams were being churned out as fast as the trainers could manage; currently I supposed there would be at least sixty field teams scattered across the globe, each hoping to be the one to apprehend at least one member of Schwarz.

Sixty teams, two hundred or more operatives, and a worldwide network of informants.

No Schwarz.

The entire history of Esset hung suspended upon this one crux in time, the nexus of its relevance, and it was sliding backward with every day Schwarz remained free.

"Well? Are you going to sit there on your big ass or are you going to tell us what it says?"

In spite of myself, I laughed, though I did my best to muffle the sound. I could imagine the look on the Girl's face at Kiko's audacity, and I knew he'd done it to annoy her. She knew that such words from her would not be tolerated, and could not imagine why I would allow Kiko to get away with it.

Or, she could probably imagine, but she would be mistaken. Fond though I was of Kiko, I would not invite him to my bed. That was reserved for Toni.

I tried not to let my mood darken at that thought. I picked the folder back up and flipped it open. "Kiko, are you in the mood for a wager?"

He grinned and tilted his head back in an arrogant pose. "What do you have in mind?"

"Read my mind, and you tell me what's in the folder."

The Girl snorted dismissively. "That's hardly appropriate, Berger. This isn't a joke."

As though she hadn't spoken, Kiko made a face of extreme concentration and said, "Hmm, let's see, they've been...spotted, almost certainly this time. Someone saw them in...an airport? No, a train station! Yes, that's it, a train station in...Europe. There's a grainy blurry photograph of someone that might possibly be either Farfarello or...a mime, and a very clear and crisp photo of Schuldig, but the poor bastard who took the picture can't remember where he got it." He looked at me with impish delight. "So. Do I win?"

I clapped my hands. "Bravo, my friend! You're four out of six. Spotted, yes. It was an airport, not a train station, in London. No on the mime, but there is a picture that might be Farfarello or a punker, and a nice clear shot of Schuldig at the airport."

"Man, are they getting predictable or what?"

"I cannot believe the two of you!" the Girl snarled, her fists clenching. "You act as if this is some kind of training game! This is the most important mission of our lives, and you carry on like a couple of variety show hosts!"

"Hey, I'm too young to get an ulcer," Kiko replied with an eloquent shrug. Then he glanced at me and added, "I'm not saying that you're old, Berger. You know that, right?"

"I know, Kiko." I tried not to smile as he joined me at the desk. It would only antagonize the Girl further, and I was not in the mood.

She took a deep breath and asked, "Is there _anything_ useful in that pile of shit on your desk, Berger? Or should we have Kiko torch it all and start over?"

For a moment I actually considered it. I had a stack of folders and papers well over two feet high, and two small storage boxes full of briefing materials. So far we had no real leads. "No, Mädchen, tempting though it sounds. These men are different from what we've been told, the dossiers are incomplete, that's all. There is something about them that we will decipher, sooner or later."

Damn, why was I hesitating? As I paused, seeming to collect my thoughts, I realized the truth of it: what we were doing was wrong. Brad Crawford was no criminal, he was a liberator who had failed to destroy the entire regime, and was now being hunted by its vengeance machinery.

"So, what you're telling us," Kiko drawled, "is that you're going to keep re-reading all this crap until your eyeballs fall out and you're a drooling lunatic? If that's the case, can I have your Rolex?"

I sighed. Schwarz consisted of one unpredictable berserker, one impossibly powerful telekinetic, one incredibly lucky telepath, and one unimaginably skillful leader who could see the future. I was stuck with a telekinetic bitch with a foul attitude and a pyrokinetic wisearse with a smart mouth.

"Basically, yeah," I said and handed him my watch.


	9. Chapter 8 Recon

**Chapter Eight -- Recon**

"What do you mean, 'they're dead'?" I growled into the phone, hand shaking slightly.

"Exactly that," came the reply, crisp and short as always. "Eight operatives, two survivors, and neither in good condition. Your team is up."

"...Understood." I turned the phone off and took a deep breath, letting my eyes close for a much-needed moment of solitude. This would be bad. My heart hammered in my chest already, and we weren't even out the door.

I gathered my dignity and some calm, and turned to face my team. "Warsaw failed."

"Damn it!" Kiko shouted. "I knew those guys!"

The Girl hung her head a moment as though in prayer, then asked, "Gain, Berger? Or complete waste?"

My hand reached up and absently rubbed at my left temple. "Uncertain. The two survivors are being...debriefed...as we speak. All we know is that two well-equipped teams were decimated shortly after reaching Poland." _And we're next,_ I wanted to say, but took another deep breath instead and stated, "They're sending us in."

Kiko paled a little, eyes fixed on me. "Berger, what are _we_ supposed to do? Those two teams were four strong each, and coordinated for the operation. We're just three, with no backup! What, have we outlived our use now? Are they getting rid of us?"

"No, you fool," the Girl snarled, all appearance of prayerfulness gone. "They're using us as bait."

"In any case, we go where they send us, and today it is Warsaw." I turned to go pack.

"Berger?"

I paused. "Yes, Kiko?"

"What makes them think Schwarz will still be in Poland?"

"They have a new precog," I told him.

"Apparently he's not very good."

Within minutes we were on our way to the train station. Our orders were to survey the area, trusting that the target was in fact still there. And trusting that we wouldn't join six other operatives on the other side of the veil.

_My_ orders were more specific: if we found Schwarz, I was to unleash Kiko with extreme prejudice.

I couldn't stop shaking. This was wrong, this was so wrong. I couldn't think of this as anything other than a set-up, and by Kiko's grim gaze I knew he held the same opinion. Only the Girl seemed to trust our masters, though even she kept glancing out the window with nervous eyes.

But once we arrived in Warsaw, we were told that the plan had changed. A retrieval team met us at the station and escorted us to their offices. There we were shown photographs of the six bodies and several surveillance photos. It was unmistakable: those men in the surveillance photos were Schwarz.

Kiko balled his fist and punched the wall with enough force to crack the plaster. I understood his anger. Like all who have been through Rosenkreuz, he had called few men his friends. Now three of those men lay dead at the hands of the Berserker.

The pictures of the carnage actually made the Girl queasy; she backed away from the table, a sickly pallor to her face.

Seventeen months, and not only was Schwarz still free they were beating us at our own game. The two teams had been lured in and dispatched with cool precision.

After the briefing, we were taken to a car. They gave me directions and the documents we would need to travel unquestioned through Poland. Then we were off, to view the site in person.

Kiko fidgeted with the radio, finally giving up on finding anything pleasant and switching it off with a curse. He leaned against the door and stared out the window, gaze fixed in a sullen glower. In the back seat, the Girl twirled a strand of hair around one finger, over and over.

My imagination had kicked in and was now working overtime. Every shadow, every tree became a mysterious executioner awaiting my arrival. I tried to focus on the mission, remind myself that we were going in to retrieve any evidence we might find, that we weren't actually expected to run into Schwarz in person.

It didn't help.

"Berger?"

"Yeah, Kiko?"

"Why didn't they send in a reader? Why us?"

"You saw what happened to those men?" I asked softly.

His lip twitched into a snarl as he answered, "Yeah, Berger, I saw."

"What do you think that would do to a postcognitive?"

He turned his attention back to the scenery.

Still some miles from our destination, the presence of Esset operatives marked a well-defined perimeter set well out from the site of the slaughter. No civilians would get through here: they would find their sense of direction scrambled and they would be on another road before they got it sorted out again. The guards waved us through.

I knew why they had sent us in, but I couldn't bear to tell Kiko, and I didn't want the Girl to know. All those months of obsessively reading the scattered reports...my fondness for playing detective had come to their attention, and they wanted me to have a look. Also, they considered my talent acceptable for combat, but lacking for daily use. I might provide some new insight, but if Schwarz were in fact nearby, I was considered expendable.

So be it. I would play detective, see if they missed something of interest.

Whether I would tell them if I found anything, I had not yet decided.

The site proved to be a disappointment. It had already been scoured clean to remove any trace of Esset's presence - scoured by fire. I walked about and tried to reconstruct the scene in my head, but the damage was too extensive. I tried to figure out how the photographs related to the actual location; even that failed, due to the thoroughness of the clean-up crew.

I sought out the commander of the operation. "Sir, I must regretfully suggest that there is nothing for me to do here."

He eyed me critically, and I wondered for a moment which talent he was. Before my own thoughts could betray me, he nodded and said, "I thought that would be the case. Next time, we'll hold off on clean-up until you've had a look around."

I blinked. This surprised me; I had thought this would be a fluke, a brief experiment at my expense. "Sir? Next time?"

"Certainly. We are bringing in several intellects like yourself, to try using non-psi means to find our quarry. I trust you are not complaining about your change in station, Herr Berger?"

"Of course not, Herr Schneider," I replied with a bow. "What will my duties be?"

"As far as your team is concerned, no different. You will be sent to locations with positive sightings and expected to produce results."

"Understood, Sir." I turned to go.

"Oh, Herr Berger?" Schneider added, his voice too casual.

Cold sweat formed between my shoulder blades. I turned back around. "Yes, Sir?"

A gloved hand held out a small package wrapped in brown paper. "This is for you. Good hunting."

I accepted the proffered item and returned to the car, where my teammates were waiting. Schneider wore gloves; that meant he was probably a reader, and not a telepath. Interesting. I hadn't touched him, so hopefully he didn't know anything about my misgivings on this assignment. Surely he couldn't read me when we both touched the same thing? No, in any case he'd had his gloves on. I absently tossed the package on the seat and got in.

"Berger, what's that?" Kiko asked as he bounced onto the passenger seat beside me and snatched up the package. "Is it a present for me?"

"Why don't you open it and find out?" For some reason, I didn't think it was anything sinister, though for the life of me I couldn't imagine what it might be.

Kiko tore into it like a kid at Christmas, then turned baffled eyes to me. "I don't get it."

I looked over and let out a startled laugh. Of all the things Herr Schneider could have given me, I never expected this. I reached over and took the tattered paperback from Kiko's hands. Whether he had meant it mockingly or as a source of inspiration, I was determined to put this unlikely gift to good use. The worn mystery novel might just distract me from those damned files for a few hours, and give my mind a little time to rest.


	10. Chapter 9 Kiko

**Chapter Nine -- Kiko**

For years I have endeavoured to break through the veil which shrouded it, and at last the time came when I seized my thread and followed it, until it led me after a thousand cunning windings, to ex-Professor Moriarty... He is a genious, a philosopher, an abstract thinker. He has a brain of the first order... You know my powers, my dear Watson, and yet at the end of three months I was forced to confess that I had at last met an antagonist who was my intellectual equal.  
  
"The Final Problem" -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"What are you doing, Berger?"

I looked up, blinking. Kiko stood in the doorway, bathrobe carelessly ajar and a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

"Research," I told him, my voice hushed as though we were in a library. I dog-eared the already worn page and set the paperback down on the floor; this was my third time reading it, or was it the fourth? I stretched and ran a hand through my hair. The olive brown mop had grown quite long; I considered a haircut, then realized I had become distractable with fatigue.

Around me, the floor was covered with piles of folders and stacks of papers. A notebook computer and box of disks completed the information overload that had me in its thrall. I yawned in spite of myself and rubbed at my eyes, trying to regain some degree of alertness. I glanced at the clock: 3 a.m.

Casual as always, Kiko sauntered through the clutter and dropped to sit cross-legged a couple feet away, unmindful of the rather personal view he was giving me. He resumed brushing his teeth with a left-handed grip while picking up a folder at random and flipping it open on his lap. "What is all this?" he mumbled around the toothbrush.

"It's everything we have on Schwarz," I replied, "or at least everything they deem appropriate to my level." I sighed. It would be the information missing that made the difference, but the higher-ups never seemed to understand that. "Every recent sighting, all encounters in the field, their school records, Crawford's marksmanship records for God's sake. Everything I could get them to send to us."

As I frowned at the monumental task of sifting through all this in the hopes that I would be the one to find the critical clue, I heard the sound of heavy glass sliding across wood, then the distinct sound of spitting. I looked up.

Kiko set the ashtray back on the table, a gob of mint-scented foam congealing in the center of it.

"You know, she hates when you do that." I couldn't keep the smile from my voice.

"Yeah? Well, she can bite me."

"Don't let her, you don't know if she's had her shots." Our eyes met, and laughter followed. Neither of us liked or trusted our third teammate, and the moments to vent were rare and cherished.

Kiko wiped the last bit of toothpaste from his lips and turned his attention back to the folder on his lap. "Berger, you know you're obsessing, right? You've read this before, we all have. I thought maybe you had something new."

I decided to take a chance. "I do, Kiko." I tapped my temple. "It's right here, though, and I can't quite decipher it. I feel as if I know the answer, but I just can't make it come clear." Frustration pushed me to my feet and I began pacing, again.

He looked at me as though sniffing for falsehood. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's right there, you know it, I know it, and damn if we can't figure it out. Something's been bugging me, though, and, well..."

"What, Kiko?" I paused and looked at him. If he had some hunch, I needed to hear it.

"Well, Berger -- now, don't get all pissed if you don't like this, and don't shoot me, but -- it's almost like you don't really want to find them."

I blinked. Surely he hadn't just said...what was in my heart all this time?

"I mean, sure you're team leader, and sure you have to do what they tell you, right? But hey, something about these four guys has you bothered, and you don't seem to hate them enough to want them dead. It's like you'd rather meet them for lunch, get to know them, you know? You're curious, for your own agenda. Screw Rosenkreuz." He watched for my reaction.

"Does She know?" The words came out a little sharper than I intended, and Kiko flinched.

"Berger, don't you trust me? I'm not trying to mess with you, I know how much losing Toni hurt you, but you gotta know, if anyone else figures you out, you'll go the same way he did. I'm with you, I promised you that, but be more careful, okay? She's not as stupid as you think she is."

At his mention of Toni, I felt myself wilt. Fatigue and grief and pointless existence crashed together and the world went gray. Then a warm presence was at my side, strong hands keeping me from falling.

"Shit, Berger, don't do that! I don't need you passing out. I can't carry your big ass to bed!"

Laughter brought with it a renewed energy. "Kiko, I'm fine. Don't worry about carrying my big ass anywhere."

Kiko remained serious. "You don't look fine. You look like shit. When's the last time you ate anything? Or slept more than three hours?"

I frowned, unwilling to let the frantic mirth slip away just yet but unable to keep it. "I had dinner. And some cake around nine."

"It's after three in the morning, Berger. What about sleep? Don't think I haven't noticed, I notice a lot."

I sighed. It was true, Kiko paid attention. I hadn't slept well since... "I don't sleep so good alone."

I could almost hear him make his decision. Then he was gently but firmly guiding me to my room. "Come on, Berger. You need rest. It's a good thing She didn't find you like that, you know. She's good at getting what she wants from a man who can't fight back."

"I'm not a man, to her," I mumbled, fatigue blunting the hostility She always inspired.

"You have the parts, you're good enough," he growled. "She don't care much."

I paused at the door to my room. "Kiko, do you and her...?" I had to ask, I had to know.

To my surprise, my blue-haired teammate laughed. "No, because I'm more of a stubborn bitch than she is. I let her get all worked up, I lie there, let her get me all excited, you know, me first then her? And after I let her get me off, I roll over and go to sleep. Hey, you know how guys are. She falls for it every time."

Then, to my surprise, I laughed too. "As she once mentioned, Geisel, you _are_ a bitch! I'm impressed."

"Berger...please don't call me Geisel, it's a girly name," he said as he followed me into my room.

"And Kiko isn't?"

He grinned that irrepressible grin of his and said, "No, it's not. It's the name of a Polynesian sex god, don't you know?"

A pause, then I asked, "You're lying, right?"

"Berger. Would I lie to you?" His face was all mock innocence.

I regarded him critically. "Yes."

He grinned and tossed his bathrobe onto a chair. "Oh, well. Busted. What's a guy to do?"

"Uh, Kiko?" I couldn't help but stare. I hadn't been near a naked man since Toni, and very few before him. "What are you doing?"

"I always sleep in the nude," he stated, strolling to my bed and turning down the covers.

I watched him move as he leaned over and fussed with the bedding, the flex of muscles through his legs and ass, the conspicuous flash of black hair at his crotch, the hands I knew would be warm and skilled...

"Kiko," I croaked, my voice betraying my confused state, "what are your intentions?"

He looked up, and damned if he wasn't honestly baffled by my distress. "But Berger, you said you don't sleep well alone. I'm not going to let Her sleep with you, that would be nasty. So you get me. Come on, get in bed." His gaze remained on my face, ignoring my rude lower half which by now had thoughts of its own. Very visible thoughts.

I slipped out of my shirt and tugged off the socks, then turned out the light. I would keep the pants on, a fragile barrier between my ache and his very accessible body. I resented myself for wanting, I resented him for being so damn naïve as to not even care that I wanted. I would not allow myself to seek a substitute for Toni, I would not --

Warm hands caught me before I reached the bed, neatly unfastening my pants and sliding them down with a little difficulty. Hot breath caressed my straining erection as Kiko's voice drifted up to my pulse-deafened ears: "You always sleep in the nude too, Berger. I noticed."

No! I did not want to betray Toni, to fall so easily into another's bed! Please, no... Please... Oh, please...

I heard a low groan and realized it had come from my own lips, the lips that Toni had kissed just so. Hot, wet ecstasy encased my cock, sliding from tip to base to tip with practiced ease. My hands fell to Kiko's head, tangled in his thick, curly hair, and begged him...to continue.

Thoughts became irrelevant in the wash of pleasure flowing up from my groin. He was good, damn good. And it had been so long. Toni would not have wanted me to suffer, would he? No, he would have wanted me to relive the joy and the passion, not lock it away in a box with his name on it like a coffin. For the first time in far too long, I listened to my body, and my heart.

Kiko felt the quickening in me, and responded with skillful intensity. His hands were hot upon my buttocks, guiding me into his mouth; his mouth was molten fire surrounding my helpless flesh. _Oh, God, it's almost...I'm almost...oh GOD!_

I cried out as I spilled into his mouth, my body spasming as every muscle clenched in that ancient rhythm. He drank every drop I had, coaxing the last bit out with gentle sips.

Then he guided me into bed. If he wanted more, I was in no condition to fulfill it. I fell asleep with his head upon my chest.


	11. Chapter 10 Deductions

**Chapter Ten -- Deductions**

"I can't believe you're wasting your time reading that crap."

I slowly raised my head, sparing the Girl an annoyed glance over my new reading glasses. "Explain, Mädchen."

"Sherlock Holmes? Really, Berger! How in the Hell will that help us find them?"

I felt my lips curve into a smile, and I knew it was a nasty one by the way her expression froze. "It was a suggestion from a ranking officer, Mädchen. Are you saying I should go against orders?"

"One book, Berger. He gave you one book. You've got the whole damn lot of them now, and you spend more time reading them than reading the briefing materials or doing field research." Her eyes blazed menacingly. "One might think you're not taking this seriously."

The cold smile still upon my face, I shut the book and set it down, then removed my glasses. I folded them carefully and set them upon the book before looking back up at her. "And what would you recommend doing at this juncture? Bring in another leader, perhaps?" I didn't need to scan her thoughts to know this was exactly what she was thinking.

"If need be."

I regarded her critically. Everything about her posture suggested challenge. So it had finally come. She had finally gotten the nerve to try something. _Very well, let's see how this plays out._

"And how does Kiko feel about this?"

She snorted derisively. "You're fucking him, so he'll side with you, of course. Unless he thinks it will get him killed to do so."

"And would it?" I kept my tone chilly, despite the fury I felt building up inside.

"It might."

I hit her with the image of Roderik lying in a pool of blood. I made it so sharp and clear that she gagged and fell to her knees under the weight of sudden horror and nausea. "Do not doubt that I will do whatever it takes to keep this team alive and strong, Mädchen. If our masters believed that I was wasting their time with my own personal research, they would send someone much more capable than you to inform me of this. Understood?"

She nodded weakly, her mind begging the illusion to fade. I held it a moment longer, then let it dissipate. She would have colorful nightmares that night.

Before she could get up, I strode over and grabbed a handful of auburn hair and yanked her head back. I glared down into her face and snarled, "Never defy me again."

I left her there to think about it.

A need for fresh air pulled me out of the apartment, allowing me only time enough to grab my coat and keys. My feet moved of their own accord, and I found myself at a small coffee shop several blocks away from the source of my aggravation. There was enough small change in my pockets to cover a pastry and coffee, so I sat down and tried to collect my temper there.

She was beginning to know. And that was a very dangerous thing. Kiko was right, she wasn't as stupid as I liked to think she was. I would have to be more careful.

Much more careful.

But...she did have a point. What was I gaining from my new hobby of devouring every Sherlock Holmes story in print? I already knew logic and the arts of inductive and deductive reasoning.

Still, I couldn't shake the image of Crawford as Moriarty. A brilliant, respected man, always one step ahead of his pursuers. True, Moriarty was not a precognitive, but I had no doubt that, were Crawford not a psi talent, he would still be leading us on a world-wide ghost hunt. For that was, in effect, what we were doing: hunting ghosts, for as soon as a report would come in from one quarter of the world, another simultaneous sighting would place them thousands of miles away.

Part of me wondered if they were even still alive, or if we were all chasing our own demented hallucinations.

Perhaps the summoning had not failed, and we were now living in the world of chaos.

I picked at the buttery crust, barely tasting it. Somehow that last thought made too much sense. Because, if it were true, then we were all acting within our own accord, and there was no mystery to be solved.

But no, I knew in my heart that the truth was much more unsettling than that.

The four would not be found.

At least not in any way that would be meaningful to the hunters.

And furthermore, the unsettling truth was something so powerful it would set the world a-tilt.

Again I wondered, for what reason would they remain exiles when they could even now return to Esset? For I was certain that they could return, if they wished to stop running. But I knew they never would. They would not be taken alive, as refugee or as prisoner. No, something had changed in them, and they would serve no longer.

Was that it?

Had they simply wearied of being slaves to the machine that was Esset?

Mädchen be damned. I would figure them out if it drove me to madness.

I paused. Madness? Had I been a puppet so long that I had forgotten how to be a human being? For the desire to be free was a very human one, one that I myself had surrendered long ago. Is that why Esset hated and feared them so much?

Did Brad Crawford have the power to remind servants that they were born to be free?

A shiver ran down my neck as I realized that I too had that birthright, though Esset held it hostage.

Yes, I would have to be much more careful.


	12. Chapter 11 Comprehension

**Chapter Eleven -- Comprehension**

As far as our mission was concerned, I could describe the entire damned thing in one paragraph: I studied the old information every few weeks. I studied new information as it came to us. I searched for meaning in old paperback books. We surveyed places where they were seen. We watched other teams come close and miss, or die, or simply vanish. We followed leads that led nowhere.

They say that doing the same thing again and again in hopes of a new result is a sign of insanity. If this is true, then Rosenkreuz itself had gone insane.

Rather, Schwarz had finally driven Rosenkreuz insane. The four were beyond slippery. They were astoundingly skilled at deception and disguise. To me, Brad Crawford was Moriarty; to the younger teams he had become known as the Chameleon.

Every so often we would receive a packet of new information and leads. These were enough to drive anyone mad. The renegades had split up. The renegades travelled together. They were in London. They were in Beijing. They were in every place imaginable, and simultaneously, too. Bilocation - neat trick.

I had thought that time would wear them down, rob them of the energy and innovation they had used against Esset for so long. But they refused to weaken. Instead, they seemed to gain strength with age, adding a new level of cunning every time I thought I had them figured out.

Crawford seemed to have no end to his ingenuity. I believed that he was the source of their luck if not their cleverness, for he would know where to go and when to leave. His talent would keep him one or two steps ahead of pursuit, and so far had served him well.

Recent rumors held that the team had, in fact, split into two sometime in the past year and a half. Photographs showing a man who might be Brad Crawford in the company of either Naoe or Farfarello had ceased to surface. Photographs showing a man who might be Schuldig, alone, had also ceased to surface. Whatever the fate of the younger two, Crawford and Schuldig were together.

Together. For the first time in years I felt that "almost got it" feeling.

Over the years, our collection of all things Schwarz had grown obscene. Kiko and the Girl had ceased looking at the information as it came in; I couldn't stop looking at any of it. I grabbed the closest stack of files and hauled it to the floor. It was mixed, old information and new, but that didn't matter. They all held the clues I had been obsessing over for more than six years, and this time they _would_ tell me their secrets. The two newest boxes and another stack of folders joined them. I sat on the floor in the middle of the clutter and began sifting through the folders, one more time.

A soft sound brought me out of my reverie to the realization that my back was stiff from sitting still too long. I looked up with a slight wince.

"Again?" Kiko, as usual, posed in the doorway until I took off my reading glasses and focused on him. Then he sauntered over and flopped to the floor beside me, and took the papers out of my hand.

"Yes, again," I murmured. "This is driving me crazy. It's been seven years of bad luck with this!"

"Maybe I can help," he offered.

"Kiko, you haven't even kept up on the briefings," I chided.

"Well, lot of good it's done you, Berger!" he chided back. "You keep reading the same old things over and over again, and what has it gotten you? Chronic back pain, weak eyes and an ulcer. So let's try something different, shall we? You talk, I'll listen, and maybe we'll pick something out of thin air."

I shook my head, but, as I was too damn tired to want to do anything else, I went along with him. As I stretched my weary back muscles, I tried to put my thoughts in order. Then I realized this was the wrong approach: order had nothing to do with it, and everything to do with our failure to date. I closed my eyes and tried to let the thoughts remain cluttered as they rolled off my tongue.

"Team of four, Crawford engineered the assignments. He wanted the little telekinetic, he got him. He wanted the red-head, he got him. Don't know about the lunatic. They served the letter of their contract with Takatori, then served the letter of their contract with Esset. They had opportunity to sabotage the ritual and they did so. In theory they could have brought back the demon-god themselves, but either were thwarted or chose not to. In any case, they were responsible for the failure of the Elders' plan."

"Berger. Berger. Hey, Berger!" Kiko's voice broke through my droning recitation. "Not like that. We all know that stuff. Tell me what _you_ know."

I blinked. Tell him what I know? Did he think I was hiding something? I reined in the paranoia before it could run away with me. Kiko had shared my bed for many years now, though we never ventured past a certain point of intimacy. I couldn't, and he respected that. I had come to really trust him, and to value his humanity. Why did it surprise me that, while I had tried to figure Schwarz out, Kiko was figuring me out?

"All right, we'll try it your way." I cleared out the rote information and focused on my own theories. "Schwarz has always been a very tight team. They watched each other's backs, though not to the point of self-endangerment. It could be that Crawford kept it from ever really being tested, though. We don't really know how close they are, or were. Any one of them could have turned the others in, in trade for amnesty if not reward. But they didn't."

I found myself standing and pacing the room as I continued to speak. "Crawford and Schuldig seem to be inseparable now. Perhaps the telepath is weakening, and the quiet zone Crawford gives him is his last link to sanity. Or perhaps they've figured out how to use their talents together, strengthening both. But I think it's something more. That little boy, Naoe Nagi, when he came to Rosenkreuz he was under Crawford's care. Schwarz always seemed to close ranks around that boy. I think..." I paused. "I think they became a family. I think that Crawford and Schuldig are a couple, and Nagi is 'their' child. If we look at it that way, it's no surprise that they haven't turned on each other. It's not in their hearts to do so."

"Berger...that's it," Kiko whispered, looking up at me with amazed eyes. "In their hearts! Rosenkreuz couldn't corrupt them because they remember how to love!"

"My God," I murmured, gazing at the ceiling as the truth of that statement washed over me, a truth I had known all along. It all made sense now. Karl, Schuldig, Schwarz -- Rosenkreuz had failed to mutate their humanity. Of course they would choose exile over the loss of their souls. Who wouldn't?

On the heels of that came a deeper understanding, and I regarded Kiko with sorrow. "If that is true, if it's that simple --"

"Then we have them!"

Kiko and I both turned to glare at the Girl, hideous in her proud triumph.

"Berger, why didn't you tell us this before? Esset will be furious if they think you've been hiding evidence," she purred, strolling toward me with a predatory leer.

"He didn't hide nothing, you stupid bitch," Kiko snarled. "He's been trying to figure them out for years, and Esset didn't give us all their information."

The lie was off his tongue so fast I almost blinked, but self-preservation and training took over. "Mädchen, are you threatening me?" My voice dripped contempt.

"Not at all," she replied, her eyes feral and dangerous. "Just stating a fact. But we all know you have nothing to hide, don't we?" She passed by me, close enough that I could smell her unwashed hair, and moved on into the kitchen. "Do go on, I'm keen to hear this new theory of yours," she called over the sound of rummaging for snacks.

I met Kiko's gaze. She would turn on us the moment she sensed weakness. I sent a short telepathic message to Kiko. ::Looks like this is it, my friend. Are we in, or out?::

::I don't want to die just yet, Berger. I'm sorry.::

::I'm sorry too. They deserve better. Let's hope their luck holds out a little longer.::

"You're not talking without me, are you?" she asked as she reentered the room with a bottle of pop in one hand and a bowl of marshmallows in the other.

Kiko rolled his eyes. "No, we were awaiting your grand return, your highness."

"So, Berger, tell me how we catch them!" As she spoke, the Girl crammed a handful of marshmallows into her mouth and began chewing on them with an audible squish.

I collected my calm and reminded myself that I had to be convincing or risk exposure and death. As much as my heart screamed at me, I had to act as though I were ready to use Schwarz's humanity against them.

Once again, however, Kiko intervened. "We're pretty sure they've split up at this point. Don't know if the killer and the kid are together, but Crawford and Schuldig seem to be. I think the telepath is falling apart. You know how they say Crawford has this calming effect on him? If I was a telepath and going crazy, I'd want to stay close to a safe zone too. So if we want to find them, we look where a man with some conscience might take a damaged telepath. The question is, are they hiding out there or do they have more than one place to stay?"

The Girl munched on another handful of sweets, seeming to mull over Kiko's words. She started talking, mouth still full of dissolving white goo. "Well, if Schuldig is slowing him down, maybe Crawford is looking for a good place to ditch him. Though why he wouldn't just shoot the telepath is beyond me."

_Of course it's beyond you, you heartless bitch,_ I thought, but kept my mouth shut.

"Maybe he still needs him," Kiko said, trying not to look at her. I knew he found her marshmallow habit disgusting, as did I. "Maybe they need each other to stay away from our field teams. There hasn't been a contact in months, only tourist sightings and surveillance film."

"In nearly two years, actually," I murmured, surprised at the realization. "Ever since the team split, no one has gotten close to any of them."

"And you're still reading those damn novels instead of going out there and looking for them," the Girl said, her eyes again flashing contempt. "I swear, Berger, if I didn't know you were an Esset operative I'd think you were working for the other side." She got up from the couch and stomped out of the room, presumably toward the toilet.

I rubbed at my weary eyes, trying to put down the feeling of panic her words had wrought. Kiko watched her go, then sauntered over to the couch. He dropped onto the cushions where she had been sitting. "It's okay, Berger. She's just full of herself, that's all. You don't see her bringing them in for Esset, do you?"

Switching back to telepathy, I told him, ::As much as I detest the idea of hunting them down, you know we have to make a stand one way or the other, Kiko. If you don't want to risk death by rebellion, then I will try to lead the team to find Schwarz no matter what I may personally believe is right.::

::I'm a coward, Berger. Always have been. If it matters, I happen to think you're right about them. Hunting them down is a bad thing. I have the feeling something is wrong with them, like we should just leave them the hell alone and they'll just go away peacefully. But Esset doesn't want peace, does it.:: It was not a question.

::No, my friend, it never did.::

Kiko sighed. He looked at the table next to the couch. The half-full bowl of marshmallows sat waiting for the Girl's return.

"You know, just looking at these damn things makes me want to puke? I can hear her chewing on them: squish squish squish!" With that, Kiko picked up the bowl and held his right hand over it. A brief, intense flash of heat fused the marshmallows into a flaming blob. Kiko blew out the fire just as the Girl returned.

"What the fuck did you do to my marshmallows, you sick piece of shit?!?"

"I like them better this way," he said mildly, tearing off a crusty wad and offering me the bowl.

The smell was enticing. I ripped off a gooey chunk, the scorched edges crumbling to ash on my fingers. "You're right," I told him after tasting the burnt treat. "Much better."

The Girl yelled wordlessly and stomped back into the kitchen. Loud cursing informed us that this had been the last of her stash.

Kiko pulled the final handful out of the bowl, biting off the sugar strings that connected it to the bowl like spider strands. ::Feel better now, Berger?::

::Childish though that was, yes, I do.:: I couldn't help smiling. She was throwing a righteous tantrum in the kitchen, and I heard something break.

::It'll be okay, Berger. Somehow, I don't think we're gonna ever find them. Though, it might be better for them if we do.::

::Well, if it is our place to find them, I think we'll have one more chance to change our minds. Remember that, Kiko. Only one chance. We'll have to be sure. If anything were to go wrong...::

::Nothing'll go wrong, Berger. Remember, I'm the lucky one.:: Kiko grinned and switched back to speaking. "Hey, Chick, you gonna clean up this bowl or what?"

He didn't flinch when the coffee pot hit the door.

_You like?? Please review!_


	13. Chapter 12 Memories

**Chapter Twelve -- Memories**

I studied the half-empty bottle in my hand. This night marked the sixth anniversary of Toni's death, and I was well into the process of a good solid drunk for it.

Every year it was the same. I bought an expensive bottle of champagne and locked myself in my room for the night. I did not share my grief with anyone but a ghost.

Unbidden, the memory of three years past came upon me and, against all likelihood, I felt myself smiling.

The only time I had been disturbed during my solitary, wine-soaked vigil was three years ago, when Kiko had barged into my room. I'd forgotten to lock the door, as I sometimes still forget. He'd asked what the occasion was, and before I could say anything had flopped into my chair with that cockeyed grin on his face.

When I told him, the grin had faltered only a moment. Then he'd asked if he could drink with me.

He'd never had champagne before.

I found myself laughing softly at the memory of a stumbling, happy drunk Kiko almost knocking over the table with Toni's glass on it.

Still, I never managed to invite him back to share my vigil, and he has never asked. For a moment I considered going to his room for the night, but it didn't seem right to do so, not on this night.

"Ah, Toni," I murmured as I poured another glass; his glass sat full, untouched. I would drink his last, as always. "What a mess, eh? Here we are, waiting and doing nothing, just in case the renegades return to this part of the universe. Madness, the lot of it."

I leaned back and let the sorrow take me for a moment. I closed my eyes and let the tears wash down my face in a silent rain. My heart still ached for him. No matter how fond I became of Kiko, my soul wept for Toni. It would be so much easier if I could just turn aside from the past and embrace what was so close to me now, but I could no more turn from the past than change the color of my eyes: it could seem as if I had done so, but I would know it for only illusion.

What might our world have been, had Schwarz not turned against our masters? Somehow, I doubted that things would have been much different for myself or Toni. Whether pleased or angered, Esset was a cruel entity, manifest through the dealings of Rosenkreuz and countless broken operatives. No, the kindness that had been Toni would have no place there, no matter the circumstance.

I sighed and finished off my glass, then the bottle.

"Oh, Toni," I whispered, picking up his glass and toasting the darkness. "I try to be a good leader, but the task before us is impossible. Schwarz is too clever. I don't think we can find them, and it's only a matter of time before I am called to task for my failure. As much as I long to see you again, I don't want to die just yet." Feeling that this was an appropriate thing to drink to, I sipped the now-warm champagne.

"And I hope you forgive me for Kiko. I'm lonely. I wasn't meant to be alone." Tears fell into the glass; my hand was starting to shake. "Damn it, Toni! Why did you have to die? I'm not meant to lead, either! I can't do this without you!"

I set the half-full glass back on the table and wept.

I must have dozed, for I found myself waking slowly to the vaguely pleasant sensation of hands caressing my chest. My shirt was open, my pants undone, and someone was touching me with increasing intimacy.

Someone small, with long auburn hair.

I flinched and grabbed her wrists, fury boiling away the drunkenness in a heartbeat.

She gasped, a throaty, excited sound. "Berger! You're awake!"

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" My voice felt tight and strained, as though I were choking on the words.

"I thought you might need some company," she said, not struggling against my harsh grip. "You were drinking alone, so I thought I'd see if..."

"If I was drunk enough to fuck, is that it?" I sat up and forced her back, never releasing her wrists. She wore damn little, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a weapon on her somewhere.

"Berger, we shouldn't be enemies," she purred. "I've done nothing but antagonize you, and that was foolish of me. Please, let me make amends." Unable to use her hands, she pressed her leg against mine.

This couldn't be happening. Of course, I must have forgotten the damn lock again. _Stupid, Berger. You know you can't trust her!_

"I assure you, I want nothing from you, Mädchen." I tried to keep the murder out of my voice. I think I failed.

"Layla. My name is Layla." She wore what she must have thought was a very sincere expression. "I don't want to be at odds with you anymore, Berger. The team is in danger, if we can't pull together they'll take us apart. Let's find a way to know each other better. That way we can work together, right?"

I swallowed. All I wanted to do was rip her arms out of her shoulders and fling them across the room. Behind that mask of sincerity lay a serpent, looking for my weakness. The team was in danger, all right: from Her.

She let her body go soft, still not resisting my hold on her wrists, but now almost melting into my grasp. "Berger, it's okay if you've never had a woman, I can teach you what to do. Or," she added, eyes sparkling with her own cleverness, "you're an illusionist. I can be a boy for you, if you'd rather. I don't mind taking it that way."

My mind reeled. How could I safely let go of this snake without getting bitten?

Unmindful of my dismay, she sidled even closer as though about to cuddle against my chest. "I could even be Toni for you."

I pushed her off the foot of the bed, hard enough that she staggered back against the door. "Get. Out." Without thinking about it, I pulled my gun – Toni's gun – out from my mattress and stood, training it on her as I unlatched the safety.

"Freak," she hissed, "you damn, degenerate freak! All right, you play your own games, wait and see who gets through this and who's worm food!"

My finger tightened on the trigger.

She yanked the door open and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I strode over and locked it, swearing to myself that I would never again neglect to do so, even for Kiko. Then I sank to the floor, gun still in hand, safety still off.

I stared at the muzzle, the blue-steel sheen that hid death. _So easy,_ I thought._ It would be so easy, right now, tonight..._

"Berger? Hey, Berger? You all right in there?"

I lowered the gun and switched on the safety. Fresh tears flowed down my cheeks. "I'm all right, Kiko. Get some sleep."

"Do you want company?" he asked.

"No, Kiko. Not right now. I'll see you in the morning."

I knew he didn't believe that I was, in fact, all right, but he withdrew from my door. "Well, good night, Berger."

Sluggish and shaking, I pulled off my clothes and tossed them into the dirty laundry pile. I wanted a shower, but I was nowhere near steady enough for one. Discarding the clothes she had touched would have to do.

Feeling soiled and violated, I reached for the glass with a sip of champagne left in it. At least she hadn't set lip to his glass. That would be beyond betrayal, to me. "No one will take your place, Toni. No one. And especially not like that."

The bottle empty, the glasses drained, I crawled back into my bed, alone...

...to dreams of Schwarz.


	14. Chapter 13 Nocturne

**Chapter Thirteen -- Nocturne**

Time? What is time, when sleep will not come? Fitful sleep and disjointed dreams haunted my nights as fruitless effort and frustration eroded my days.

Seven years, and more it has been.

I have begun to truly fear for my sanity.

Again I lay waiting for sleep to come, Kiko snoring softly at my back. He asks for nothing, gives of himself without hesitation. I wish I could give more back to him.

I sighed. Why did I fear madness so? Not that it would matter to me once I'd arrived in the thick of it. Similarly, why mourn for the dead? It is the living, and the sane, who need our sympathy. The truly lost have no cares.

Sleep overtook me like a dark tide.

I dreamed I stood within a chapel. It had a medieval look about it, an archetypal church from my own personal trivia: dark wood, candles, colored light spilling down from a dozen stained glass windows.

Before the altar stood a tall, slender man with red hair and wearing a fine white suit, smoking a cigarette and regarding the crucifix as an art critic studying an unfamiliar genre.

Dimly I knew that this was a blurry, exhausted dream, that it was not real. In this dream, I approached the man who I knew would turn and be one of my quarry. On impulse, I called out to him.

He turned, and shook his head sadly. The dream-Schuldig gestured toward a side door with his cigarette, then turned toward the front door and walked away.

I was lucid enough within the dream to want to know what was behind that door. It could become a nightmare, or I could find a bit of insight that eluded my waking mind.

I opened the door.

The room beyond it belonged in a nineteenth-century gentleman's home, not a church. The walls were paneled with wood that had been polished to a deep glow. An old-fashioned globe rested in its stand near the desk, and kerosene lamps gave the room a dignified and somber light. An old-style record player with a burnished horn played softly from the corner. The music was haunting, tragic and painful.

A well-dressed man stood by the window. One elegantly cuffed wrist lay against the frame, his hand dangling something shiny at eye level.

I moved closer to see what it was. Twisted about his fingers gleamed the gold chain of a pocket watch. The timepiece spun slowly, suspended between his gaze and the window.

He knew I was there. "Good day, Mr. Holmes."

"Moriarty," I replied.

"I knew you would come." He turned, grey hair falling across his eyeglasses, and returned the watch to his vest pocket. Brad Crawford regarded me without suspicion or fear.

This was a very strange dream, even by my standards. Never could I remember being so aware within one. I decided to go on with it, though I knew I could have woken myself at any time.

"Sir, a question, if I may." I was going to test this dream, see if my answers lay hidden within this wood-paneled room. However, my intention and my action did not agree. Instead of "Where are you?" or even "What should I do?" I found myself asking, "Will you take us with you?"

"You know the answer already."

I wanted to run, to vanish, to do anything other than wake to another day of searching in an unjust vendetta. "I do not want to fight you."

"I know. But you will."

Around us the room dissolved. Moriarty/Crawford vanished with it. Now I stood on a vast plain, a battlefield strewn with the dead. Acrid metallic smoke burned my nose, and I coughed. Still, it was only a dream, I knew this to be so. I drew myself up and looked around.

I saw another figure, back turned toward me as he regarded something he must have found more interesting. This man had black hair, long and a little wild. Crawford again?

Flames rose up from the ground to dance about his ankles and the hem of his cloak like a faerie ring. His hair, only just hinting at a future grey, fluttered in the rising wind. In front of him, just within my view, his right hand rested atop a cane, or was it the hilt of a sword? About his wrist he wore a wide metal band. He turned slightly to the left and I could make out his profile. His eye was dark blue, like the boy's were said to be. But this had to be Crawford, he could be no one else.

In a low, melodic voice that bore no emotion he stated, "If you come to Nihon, you will die."

I woke screaming.


	15. Chapter 14 Japan

**Chapter Fourteen -- Japan**

"Berger here."

"Your team is going active. Special assignment. A package will arrive shortly. A car will transport you to the airport in six hours. You will be flying to Japan."

I ended the call and folded the tiny phone into my pocket, my hand shaking. I tried to make my voice sound casual, though my mouth was suddenly dry. "We're on. Get packed."

"Where is it this time?" Kiko asked, already bored from a recent series of unproductive trips.

"Japan. I'll know more when the materials arrive. But we fly out in six hours, so get ready."

The Girl got up to go pack without a word.

"Japan?" Kiko sounded unhappy.

"Yes, Kiko. Japan." I sighed, not wanting to banter today.

"What for? They wouldn't go back there, would they? It would be stupid of them."

"I'll let you know as soon as I know. Fair enough?"

A courier dropped off a briefcase within half an hour of the call. I flipped it open and looked at its contents. Already I could feel a headache coming on.

There were three small tape players with headsets, six tapes, three textbooks, some highlighters and pens, and a locked folder. I keyed in the combination even as Kiko helped himself to the other items in the case.

"Aw, it's not even music," he grumbled, switching the first tape back off. "It's some whiny guy talking gibberish."

"It's your crash course in Japanese. Get busy," I told him, barely looking up from the folder. "You have five hours to become passable. You'll get a little more time on the plane."

"Great. I bet it doesn't even have cursing on it."

I tossed the folder back into the case and went to look for some headache pills. Once that was taken care of, I returned to the main room to find Kiko and the Girl with headphones on and sour expressions on their faces. I almost smiled.

While they listened to and supposedly absorbed the basics of Japanese grammar from the Rosenkreuz-approved subliminal learning tapes, I handed around the contents of the folder. Our team had been assigned to act as bodyguards for a woman named Tsujii Mayumi, a prominent scientist involved in human genetics and artificial intelligence. Something about the assignment suggested that the research involved a synthesis of the two fields, though there seemed to be some conflict with a Project: Epitaph.

Epitaph. Figures, I thought to myself, frowning.

"It's the cloning experiment," the Girl stated. "Haven't you been reading the training materials they've been sending the last few months? Oh, that's right, if it isn't Schwarz or Sherlock, you haven't read a damn thing."

"Spill it, then," Kiko growled at her before I had the chance to say anything. "We don't have a lot of time, here."

"Just that," she said flatly. "They've been trying to figure out how to clone psis. They keep getting normals. The talents didn't figure into the mathematics or something. But that hasn't stopped the great scientists of Esset from plowing on, seeking that elusive key to the mind and soul of mankind."

"If I didn't know you better," Kiko said, sounding almost impressed, "I'd say you were being cynical."

The Girl glared at him. "Not at all. Esset will become the master of the world, in spite of humanity. I've never doubted that for a moment. It's just that their brilliant scientists are usually too full of their own egos to know what the hell they're looking at. More often than not, they're bound to fail, and rather than try another approach Esset keeps funding them."

"Oh, so you're not being cynical, you're just bitching. I see." Kiko went back to staring at his Japanese workbook.

Cloning psi talents? That would fit with the chemical sterilization imposed upon us at Rosenkreuz: they didn't want us procreating at will. Esset wanted a world composed of engineered psi soldiers and compliant normals, a custom-made game board for its own unfathomable designs.

The entire situation left a sour taste in my mouth. In fact, between the current assignment and the recurring dreams that had plagued me for months now, I felt positively ill.

Over and over, I had dreamed I would die in Japan.

Epitaph.

The few hours sped past, and all too soon the three of us were on the plane for Tokyo. We kept trying to use the learning tapes, but they gave me a headache, and Kiko was having far too much fun mocking the lessons to allow the Girl to gain any real benefit from them either.

"They don't even have an alphabet."

"Kiko..."

"I'm sorry, Berger, but English was hard enough! This is ridiculous!" Kiko flipped through his textbook one more time, scowling at the pages. He pointed at one of the characters. "Hey, this one's not too bad. I don't know what it means, but it looks like a cute little house! And this one..." Frowning in concentration, he contemplated the kanji. "This one looks kind of like two dogs fucking!"

"Shut up, Geisel," the Girl snarled.

A few moments of silence, then: "You know, they eat raw fish there."

"Kiko..." I tried to believe that the headache medicine would be enough to keep me from strangling him. Not willing to trust it entirely, I made myself count to ten, in Japanese. Very slowly count to ten.

I have never been fond of flying. When they announced we were descending at long last, I exhaled a grateful prayer. My relief came too soon, as we were not yet safely down.

The landing, if one were to call it that, defied description. Suffice to say, we bounced. I held onto the armrests for dear life. Beside the window, the Girl reached for the little paper bag in the seat pocket, her eyes wide.

Between us, Kiko gave a hearty shout. "Whoo-hoooo! Do it again, Mr. Pilot!"

I could have killed him.

We gathered our dignity and stashed our tapes and books in the Girl's carry-on. Rosenkreuz had already sent our other bags ahead via special courier. Now all we had to do was find our driver.

Striding onto the concourse, I was keenly aware of how foreign we must look. That could be a good thing. My long hair seemed truly green under these lights. That, too, could be a good thing. I concentrated on an air of menace and moved my team forward, eager to avoid contact with the locals as much as possible.

To my right, the Girl seemed too young with her auburn hair pulled into two pigtails and a fashionable powder blue coat hiding any hint of curve. To my left, Kiko strutted like a delinquent, hands in the pockets of his butt-length denim jacket. The lights, so unflattering to my hair, made his blue-tinted mane shine. We looked like a trio of European punk trash. I smiled.

The man who met us was not the one we had been told to expect. Kiko started to say something to me but I hushed him with a thought. As we approached the man, I ignored the proffered handshake and strode past him, gleaning his name and the location of his car from his sycophantic little mind. Disgusting troll.

Unfortunately for my lingering headache, Shimojima was not content to keep his ego inside his own head. As he drove, he droned on in self-congratulatory prose about Project: Epitaph and the failures of Rosenkreuz. He thought himself above the herd, one of the chosen, and he considered us lackeys of a bloated bureaucracy grown lazy.

Then he brought up the unresolved matter of the Elders.

I had heard enough. ::Mädchen, drive.::

Shimojima panicked as he felt the car lurch out of his control. The Girl had taken control of the car, driving it neatly if a little quick. I grabbed Shimojima's weak mind and showed him a vastly accelerated view of the traffic. "I heard that the speed limit on Japanese motorways was 80 kilometers," I murmured. "Aren't you going a little fast?"

Shimojima screamed and pulled at the steering wheel to no avail.

Behind us, Kiko gave a delighted whoop at the ride, and the Girl smiled smugly to herself.

"Are you trying to kill us?" I said, quite calmly.

"Stop it!" Shimojima yelled. "I'm going to report this to Epitaph!" He gagged as blood fountained from his nose and mouth, my grip on his mind too strong for him.

I felt disgusted, soiled by my contact with his thoughts. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick?" I mocked, my lingering headache and my distaste for the man spurring me on to unaccustomed cruelty.

Shimojima screamed, his eyes frantic. "Stop it! Stop it!!"

"We will follow Epitaph's orders," I assured him. "But we are agents of Rosenkreuz, and we expect a certain amount of respect." If he did not acknowledge this, there was no way we could fulfill our contract. Shimojima was a loose cannon, and those always made me nervous.

"Yes! Yes I understand! Please stop!"

My head hurt so much by now my vision blurred. Then suddenly I realized what we were doing: we were abusing a normal, as if he were nothing to us. As if Esset were right.

::Okay, done,:: I told the Girl. Obedient for once, she released her hold on the car slowly, allowing Shimojima time to catch up.

"Please, do drive safely," I chided softly, trying to ignore the blood that poured from his nose and the fear coloring his wide eyes.

A/N: For updates on any of my fan-fictions please see my profile, my livejournal or my mailing list (located in my profile). Thanks!


	16. Chapter 15 Underworld

**Chapter Fifteen – Underworld**

We arrived at our assignment shortly after six in the evening. The project leader had requested our presence there for seven days, though something about Shimojima's manner suggested things would be moving far more quickly than that. If anything were to happen tonight, I would need to get rid of this damn headache, and fast.

The three of us were left to ourselves until such time as they called for us. They provided us with a suite and a meal, but the thought of food made me queasy; I retired to one of the narrow cots and closed my eyes against the harsh fluorescent glare.

When the sounds of dinner were done, I heard the door between our rooms open and shut, followed by the almost bouncy tread of Kiko coming toward me. My eyes opened only enough to glare at him. "What?"

"Your head still hurt?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Roll over," he instructed, pushing his sleeves up.

I could feel the energy flowing through him as he increased his body temperature. I took off my shirt and lay back down. Hot hands gently kneaded my back, finding the tense places and pushing warmth into them until they began to relax. I sighed. "Kiko, you would make a wonderful masseur."

"So what's wrong, Berger? Why so tense?"

"Oh, Kiko," I murmured, not wanting to discuss my misgivings with him. "It's nothing. I just don't like these people."

"Bullshit," he stated, then leaned down and put his lips to my ear. "Bull. Shit. Berger, I know when something's bugging you, and you haven't been right in weeks. We've got some time, talk to me, damn it. You can't fall apart here, you're the only one who speaks the stupid language."

In spite of myself I laughed. Before I could tense up again, Kiko placed his hands over my spine and pushed. I gasped as several vertebrae realigned with a series of loud cracks.

"See? Kiko made it all better," he said with a rakish smirk. "So talk to me, Berger?"

I sighed and rolled over to look at him. "I've been having nightmares."

"No shit! Not like I haven't been woken up by your loud ass," Kiko grumbled. "But you never wanted to talk about them. Is that what this is?"

"I dreamed I would die in Japan."

This time Kiko didn't speak for a while. He seemed to be looking for the right thing to say, and not finding it. Then, in a soft voice, he said, "But, Berger, wouldn't that put you back with Toni?"

I blinked, startled.

"And if you don't die," he continued, "we'll just keep doing what we've been doing, and life will go on, right? So what's to be afraid of? Besides, you've got me here. Nothing's going to happen, Berger. It was just a dream."

I reached up and took hold of his hand. It was still very warm. "Kiko, my friend, I wish we were not here tonight."

"Berger, are you coming on to me?" Kiko asked, kneeling down beside the cot. "Because, you know, I don't mind if you are, but this isn't really the place, and the mood's all wrong."

Again he made me laugh. I shook my head at him. "No, you crazy fool. I'm trying to thank you, and I'm trying to tell you I hope this isn't a very bad situation for us."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For being my friend. For giving a damn whether I live or die, and whether I am happy."

"Oh, Berger, of course I give a damn. That's what friends are for. Besides, you don't see that dumb bitch caring about either of us. I say we leave her here, go catch a show in Tokyo or something. Come back in a week, pick her ass up and go back to being bored."

"Kiko, we're nowhere near Tokyo."

Kiko shrugged. "So, what do we do now, Berger? If we're not going out to a show, anyway."

"Now? We wait."

"Waiting sucks." He got up and paced around the little room. "Hey, Berger?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they'll be here?"

My hackles went up. This wasn't something I was really prepared for. "I don't know," I told him. "In my dream, they warn me, then there's this figure wreathed in fire who tells me I'm going to die."

"It's not me, is it? Because, Berger, if you want to dream about me, I've got some better things to talk to you about than that shit."

I snorted a laugh, then realized my headache was gone. I took a deep breath and enjoyed the pain-free moment. "No, it's not you," I murmured. "It starts off looking like Crawford, but it isn't. Or maybe it is, I really don't know. It's weird, Kiko. And that's why it bothers me so much. It's not like any kind of dream I would normally have, you know?"

"Yeah, those can be creepy." He wandered back over, grabbed my foot, pushed it back on the cot, then sat down where my foot had been, draping his arm over my upraised knee. "So, you didn't answer my question. Do you think they'll come?"

"Why would they?" I asked, suddenly skeptical of my own obsession.

"I don't know, maybe they don't like unauthorized copies?"

I frowned at him. "Kiko, what are you saying?"

"Well, with you reading all that detective stuff, I've come up with a deduction of my own," he stated with a grin. "If I was trying to clone a psi-talent, and if I was using someone who had been at Rosenkreuz, right, who would I pick? I mean, would I use a bunch of different people, or just one? If I had one good subject, why try for others? And we know that they collected genetic samples from all of us there, right? So it could be anyone!"

I slid back into a sitting position and watched Kiko put this together. "Go on."

"Well, Berger, you saw the briefing stuff, who are they most afraid of? If they could make one they could control, wouldn't that be what they're after?"

I thought of the information they had sent us about the cloning project, and the photographs of a pretty Asian youth named Toudou. A boy with hauntingly familiar features. "Naoe Nagi." I whispered the name as though ghosts were listening.

Kiko nodded. "Elementary."


	17. Chapter 16 Descent

Chapter Sixteen – Descent 

The three of us sat in the common room of our suite, waiting for a call that likely would not come. We were there as a show of power in the pissing match between Epitaph and Project: Toudou, nothing more. But I refused to allow the aggravation this caused to renew my headache.

Talk turned from our current assignment to the difficulty of the language, and then once more to Schwarz. The Girl snorted derisively as she pointed out, "We have been taken off the hunt to sit here and rot, while Esset wastes time and money on the whole damn thing! This is ridiculous!"

"Not like you're ready if they walked in that door," Kiko growled, picking a little piece of vinyl off the arm of his chair and flinging it across the room.

"Oh, I'm ready," she purred, a cold gleam in her eye. "Problem is, we're here, and they aren't. If I knew where they were, believe me, gentlemen, I would complete our mission with glory."

"Or you'd get smacked in the head, trying to seduce the wrong guy," Kiko jeered, his mood turning visibly nasty. "Or maybe you'd just fall on your ass and they'd walk right on past without even noticing your sorry self."

"Children," I grumbled, "not now. We have to maintain a professional demeanor for this assignment. We can go back to infantile name-calling later."

"But Berger," the Girl snarled, "he's making a big joke of this! True, I don't think we have a chance in hell of ever finding those traitors, but if we did, I at least would be ready for it."

"Would you?" My eyes narrowed as I regarded her more closely. "Do you even remember our plan?"

She glared at me, then said, "You want me to take out the telepath, Kiko gets the precog, and that would leave the boy for you." Something about the way she said it suggested insult, but I chose to ignore it.

"That's right. And if the lunatic is with them, we hope to hell he's flammable," Kiko added.

I nodded. "On the off chance that they do put in an appearance, I want it by the drill," I stated, with a sidelong glare at the Girl. "That means no games, Mädchen. You do your assignment, and leave Naoe to me."

She pouted, but granted me a short nod.

"Ooh, that means I get the handsome one," Kiko chortled. "So sorry, sweetie, you get stuck with the one that don't like women."

"Idiot." The Girl stormed out of the room, slamming her door behind her.

"You just had to say something," I chided, only slightly meaning it.

"I'm sorry, Berger," Kiko said, trying to stifle his laughter at her reaction. "But you know she won't do it. If they show up, or when we ever do run into them, or whatever, she's going after Nagi."

"I know. And that's what worries me." Again the dream warning echoed through my head.

"Hey, Berger?"

Kiko's voice had softened. When I glanced over at him, he tapped his temple. I realized my shields had been up to full while She was in the room. ::Sorry, Kiko. What is it?::

::You've got me paranoid, you know that? Maybe it's because of that dream of yours, but I keep wondering, what if they do show up here? I mean, it would be like the ultimate ironic bad luck if they did, right? So why not?::

I sighed, and nodded. ::I know what you mean, my friend. If there's a worst possible time for it to happen, if it is to happen at all, that's when it will be.::

::So, Berger…:: He looked down, plucked at a stray thread on his sleeve.

::What is it, Kiko?:: Worry colored my mental speech, and was matched in his eyes as he looked back up at me.

::Berger, if they do… I mean, if we ever find them…:: An unguarded thought crept through – _Can't we just go away with them?_ Kiko didn't seem to notice what his heart had so loudly wished; instead he merely asked, ::What do you want me to do?::

"_Will you take us with you?" "You know the answer already."_

Kiko's words found answer in my dreams, not surprising but enough to make me wish that we had never come to Japan.

::I mean, Berger,:: he went on, ::you know what I can do.:: He stared into my eyes as he asked, ::Will you make me do it?::

His memories flowed through him, bringing sorrow and pain in their wake before moving on to me. The gift of fire is a terrible thing, and Kiko's gift was stronger than most. Through his eyes, through the eyes of memory, I again saw the startled face of the young man he had first lain with, his expression one of confusion as Kiko lost control of his power and turned his partner's breath to flame with one lethal kiss. Again I wept for my friend, as I had when first I learned of the accident. At least it had been too quick for suffering, and they were only casual friends; the thought of slaying one beloved in such fashion was beyond horrific.

I knew what he was asking: if we did encounter Schwarz, should he unleash the full force of his power, or give them a chance? Years ago, I had been given the order to attack the renegades with full prejudice. Years ago, I had seen no other way. But now… :: Kiko, I would not command you to do that if the fate of the world were at stake. Follow your own conscience, it will not betray you.::

Tears gleamed on his cheeks as he whispered, "Thank you, Berger. I won't forget this."

The intercom buzzed. A hollow female voice announced, "Team Rosenkreuz, your presence is required." Our door slid open, and beyond it stood two of Shimojima's students, waiting to escort us to our destination. I glanced at my watch. It was nearly ten at night. Kiko shrugged into his jacket and gestured for me to go first. The Girl joined us with a glare, and the three of us followed the students in silence.


	18. Chapter 17 the Lab

**Chapter Seventeen – The Lab**

We entered a large room dominated by some kind of tank and what seemed to be life support machinery. At the far end of the room squatted a large console with several video monitors arrayed across it. The room reminded me of a set from a direct-to-video science fiction movie. ::So this must be Project: Toudou,:: I sent to my team. As an afterthought I shot a glare at Kiko and added, ::Touch nothing.::

::What is that, some kind of aquarium?:: Kiko asked. I had no idea if he was joking.

A woman in a lab coat greeted us. "You must be our team from Germany. I am Tsujii Mayumi. Welcome to the Toudou Project." As she spoke, she studied each of us, then seemed to dismiss us as beneath her notice. She turned away from us and wiped her hands against her coat as though she had touched something nasty.

This was going to be a long night. To Kiko I sent, ::She doesn't seem impressed with us.::

::Maybe she was expecting jackboots and trench coats?::

Tsujii gestured at the huge tank which dominated one side of the room. "Here is the culmination of years of research," she stated in the fashion of one enthralled by her own voice. "Where Esset failed in your generation, I will bring about their greatest dream! This child has within him the highest degree of all human potentials. He will possess every psionic ability combined with a genius intellect. And I will be able to give him all the knowledge of the world, thanks to Project: Epitaph."

I spared a sidelong glance at my teammates, first Kiko, then the Girl.

Kiko looked rather blank, and at my glance he gave a tiny shrug.

The Girl's nose was wrinkled up, her face a mask of disbelief and the kind of concern one shows in the presence of the dangerously deranged.

I had to restrain myself from laughing out loud. Whatever the benefits of this project, the director was surely in need of a reality check.

::Hey, Berger, I think this chick's seen too many bad movies,:: Kiko sent; the Girl nodded slightly.

This was perhaps the first time the three of us had ever agreed on anything.

::Wait, she's still talking!:: the Girl sent back, now quite amused and not wanting to miss anything good.

Tsujii ignored us while speaking as though to an invisible audience of her peers. "Where earlier attempts fell short, I have succeeded in creating the ultimate programmable omnipotent life form. This child will be as a god, guiding us and guarding us from our own follies. He will save us from ourselves, and mankind will reach its ultimate destiny!"

::That, or check you into a psycho ward,:: Kiko sent, nearly causing the Girl to break out into audible laughter.

I snuck a glance at my watch. Oh, this was going to be a very long night indeed.

::Hey, Berger?::

Kiko had addressed me directly, not sharing with our other team member. ::Yeah, Kiko?::

::What's in the tank? I'll bet it's sharks.:: On the outside, Kiko's expression remained bland, as it always did no matter how absurd his conversation. I've never understood how he managed that.

::Kiko…::

::No, really, Berger! See, she's going on like one of those crazy James Bond villains, right? And they all had this thing about sharks in big tanks.::

Reflexively I glanced toward the tank. This was just as well, as Tsujii was walking that way herself, still rambling on about her accomplishments and the birth of a new world.

::_Thunderball_, wasn't it? You know, the one with the sharks?::

"We have reason to believe," Tsujii stated, "that someone will try to stop this child from coming into life. Your job is to ensure his safety. But it won't be long now. Everything should be over very soon." She leaned against the tank and caressed the glass plating.

::Oh, hell, Berger,:: Kiko sent, abruptly serious. ::Look at it!::

I looked. The youth in the tank could only have been cloned from Naoe Nagi; the resemblance was unmistakable. Dread sent a cold chill down my back.

"He will possess every psionic ability combined with a genius intellect…the ultimate programmable omnipotent life form."

"_I don't know, maybe they don't like unauthorized copies?"_

Who did they expect to try to stop the project?

Across the room, an alarm began to sound. Kiko looked at me with undisguised worry.

We followed Tsujii to the command console and gathered behind her. She switched off the alarm above video monitor one and tightened the viewing angle.

Five men approached the building, striding with grim purpose.

Shimojima and his student army blocked their way.

I studied the newcomers with a sense of recognition. A swordsman, an archer, a man with clawed gloves… ::Kritiker is here.::

::Is that those guys who helped Schwarz take out the Elders?:: Kiko asked, his mouth hanging open.

I nodded once. ::Weiß.::

We watched the monitor as the confrontation unfolded at the gate. Shimojima and his foul students faced off against the men of Weiß, and for a moment the world held its breath.

::Berger, look.:: Kiko's mental voice was punctuated with a nudge against my ribs.

I followed his gaze. Monitor five showed the rooftop: two shadows silhouetted against the moon. My heart hammered in my chest. It couldn't be!

Something about monitor one pulled my attention back. The fight, it seemed, was already over: a ghostly tableau lit by a glowing fog. Fog? The night had been clear, until now. I glanced at the rooftop monitor again: the sky, dark velvet punctuated with stars.

Through the gates the white mist flowed as though the air itself recoiled from the newcomer, a figure in black striding calmly toward the paused chaos.

It's him.

Them.

They're here.


	19. Chapter 18 War

**Chapter Eighteen – War**

"What is the meaning of this?" Tsujii spat. "Who is that?"

I swallowed and hoped my voice would come out steady. "Naoe Nagi. He came all this way…" I didn't know why I said that; I had no idea where he might have come from. Still, that he had come was the crucial thing.

Tsujii blinked, visibly unsettled. "Naoe Nagi? As in Schwarz?"

"Psychokinesis…" His power had never been accurately charted. Kiko's deduction made even more sense now: if Tsujii wanted the most powerful psi talent for her clone, but did not know his identity, they surely sent her Nagi's DNA with no warnings. Unmeasurable could very well be the same as unstoppable.

Not that Shimojima and his students wouldn't try. No, it was our job to intervene, not theirs. We were trained for Schwarz, though I suspected we would not be strong enough to defeat them. Still we had to try. "Your precious superhumans don't stand a chance against his telekinetic powers. We'll go." :Move out.: We turned as one toward the exit.

"Wait!"

I paused and regarded Tsujii over my shoulder, unwilling to turn away from the door. "They know how to kill Rosenkreuz operatives…" I began, but Tsujii cut me off.

"You stay here and protect the lab."

Her callousness was appalling. I took a deep breath and finished my statement. "Shimojima and those students will be killed."

Tsujii graced me with a self-satisfied smile. "So what? I have another surprise planned. Why don't you stay and watch from the best seats in the house?" She rose and fairly danced toward the tank, her eyes glassy with a near-religious zeal. "You protect this lab… this child… Protect the original god and everything will be fine."

:What should we do, Berger: Kiko looked at me, his eyes worried.

:I suppose we wait.: I returned my attention to the video monitor and watched the inevitable play itself out.

The enhanced-humans under Shimojima's command stood frozen under the force of Nagi's will as their master shrieked impotent threats and fired his gun.

In a ghostly-calm voice, Naoe Nagi addressed the students, as though he had done this before. "It's no use. You can't move."

:Holy shit, Berger: Kiko sent. :He's stronger than they said. They never told us about this, did they:

:No, they did not.: Nowhere in the briefing materials did they indicate that Naoe Nagi had the strength to hold so many immobile and still carry on a conversation as though he were doing nothing more strenuous than walking.

Not wanting to watch the students' inexorable self-destruction, Kiko turned back to monitor five. The two figures were still there, silent observers of the scene below.

Shimojima screamed at his students, his voice high and tinny through the speaker. "You are the chosen! Use your will to overcome your limitations. You should be ashamed! These low-lifes are laughing at you! You're being laughed at!"

One youth struggled against his invisible bonds. He wrenched hard enough to break his own spine. His last words fell in irony: "I am the chosen elite!"

Two other students followed in his fate.

Not releasing his hold on them, Nagi informed the remaining students, "If you don't stop, you're going to die." His tone indicated plainly that he was not bluffing.

Their master snapped. "Die!" Shimojima screamed at them. "If you can't stop this lowlife from laughing at you, you're better off dead! You failures! Why? I am chosen, I am elite!" He looked around at the bodies of his superhumans, broken and lifeless, and he started to shake. "How can such trash do this to me? I am chosen!" Shimojima raised a trembling hand, his pistol gripped too tightly in his fist. "I will not allow trash like you to determine my fate!" He placed the muzzle against his temple and screamed, "So, I win!"

:Hey, Berger, look.: Kiko indicated the rooftop monitor. :I think something's wrong.:

I turned in time to see the two figures retreating from the edge and presumably heading for the stairs into the building. :What is it, Kiko:

:If that's Crawford and Schuldig, then Schuldig don't look right.: He frowned at me a little. :He's moving like he hurts.:

:Stay sharp, little brother: I told him, not knowing what else to say. :Perhaps they only came to watch, and no one saw them but us.:

:I think the guy with the sword saw them, but he don't count. The Girl knows, though.: Kiko nodded toward the tank. :Maybe we could chuck her in with the sharks and run for it.:

Tsujii began methodically fine-tuning the monitors. Number three showed three of the Weiß assassins, while number four followed Nagi. The intruders were all headed downstairs. Her voice unaccountably excited, Tsujii murmured, "That's right, keep going."

:Maybe we could chuck them both in with the sharks: I told Kiko, liking the situation less by the second.

The tank beeped. Tsujii hurried over and studied a control panel. She began to mumble. "Sixty percent…seventy…not much longer until he awakens."

Again I turned toward the exit. :Team, we have work to do. Come on.:

"Stop!"

I was beyond exasperated with this madwoman. "No matter which way they go, they will get to Epitaph's office."

Tsujii glowered and stated, "You are supposed to obey my orders."

Oh, this would not do. "Our orders," I reminded her, "are to protect Epitaph, not to protect your questionable data."

Tsujii slammed her hand against the wall and shouted, "You will obey me!"

:I'll handle this, Berger. You don't know women like I do.: Kiko gave a mocking laugh and addressed Tsujii directly. "Maybe you want to settle things here?"

She winced at his words and then began to pout.

:Remember the drill: I told them as the laboratory door shut behind us. :This is not the time for :

:I'll take care of Nagi: the Girl informed us, her very posture defiant. :You two watch over Epitaph.: Not waiting for argument, she sprinted down the hallway and out of sight.

:Damn her.: I had a sudden feeling of déjà vu, and it made my skin crawl.

"If you come to Nihon…" 

Kiko regarded me with a sort of excited resignation. :Berger, you'd better go to Epitaph. I'll run interference, you kiss butt. I'd hate to get all beat up and then be fired on top of things, you know:

:Yeah, I know. Kiko: I put my hand on his shoulder for emphasis:don't get dead.:

He put his hand over mine and grinned. :Don't worry, Berger. I'm lucky all over. And when this is all done, we toss both those crazy bitches in with the sharks and go to Tokyo.:

I smiled at him. :It's a deal. Stay lucky, my friend.:

:You too, Berger.: His eyes momentarily serious, he added:I'll see you on the other side.:


	20. Chapter 19 Fate

**Chapter Nineteen - Fate**

I stood at parade rest in Epitaph's office as she made some final adjustments to the project. While she worked, I used the time to reach out with my mind and keep tabs on my team.

What I found did not please me. The Girl had found Naoe Nagi, but, as I knew would be the case, had not yet been able to capture or dispatch him. She was chasing him all over the damned facility, wearing herself out and no doubt playing right into his hands. I grimaced as She taunted him yet again.

Dismissing the anger her antics brought up in me, I turned my attention to Kiko. I frowned as I ran up against his shields; I hadn't expected that. Cautiously, so as not to distract him from whatever was happening, I worked my way through his shields and eavesdropped. Currently he was crouching behind a wall of fire, with the three Weiß in his line of sight.

:Kiko, what's going on: No answer. I sent a little more strongly:Did you stop them:

Kiko's reply came tinged with apprehension. :Um, Berger, we've had some unexpected company.: He turned to look past the fire.

I saw through his eyes, and understood why his shields had been up. :Schuldig: Oh, hell! This was going so wrong! I tried not to let my fear show through our link. :He must be upset because he wasn't invited to the party: I quipped. :Just keep him busy, and be careful, little brother.:

:What about those other guys: Kiko sent, bracing for an attack.

:Don't worry about them: I told him even as I saw Schuldig leap to strike.

"Berger!"

I turned to face Epitaph, my link with Kiko dissolving into his shields.

"I must go," she stated, rising from her desk. "Our data on Schwarz is insufficient and needs to be recalculated."

Inwardly I groaned. This was a hell of a time for our employer to be admitting that!

As I escorted Epitaph with two of her students, I tentatively reached out for my teammates, to see how they fared. I couldn't reach either of them. Frowning, I concentrated on the task at hand, as there was nothing else I could do.

We entered a large room with a walkway overlooking the lower level, and I paused. Epitaph's destination lay on the other side of the room, via the walkway. The lower section, however, held a potential problem. The three Weiß had just rushed in, and now stood staring up at us. I made a quick decision and addressed the two students. "Escort Epitaph downstairs." They led her over the walkway while I descended to deal with Kritiker.

I understood just enough Japanese to comprehend as the man with the clawed gauntlets blurted, "Epitaph? That's the academy director! So it's not Tsujii?"

In spite of the situation, I laughed softly. If this is how prepared they were for this situation, diverting them would be no problem at all. "Tsujii? She's just Epitaph's arms and legs." Letting them digest this at their own pace, I used their momentary confusion to begin collecting the threads of their thoughts and weaving them to my will. As I did this, their language became easier for me to follow; unlike telepaths who work with word images, I could pluck the symbolic meanings from these fellows' thoughts with little effort.

The archer addressed his colleagues in a way that suggested he was more than an operative: "We have an addition to the mission. Execute Epitaph."

Then something surprising happened. The youngest cried out, "Wait! Mom, is that you?"

The archer paused to look at the youth. "Mom?" This one was definitely no operative – the head of Kritiker, was it? Interesting.

The clawed man stared. "Her?"

Every moment they gave me in their unguarded thoughts, the deeper within I would be. I listened distantly to their frantic discussion, and wove.

"Epitaph is really the missing Kisaragi Fumie?"

The boy took off running toward me, aiming for the stairs to the walkway. "Answer me!"

He didn't seem to notice that I was blocking his way. Good. They were nearly ready. I straight-armed the boy, knocking him to the floor.

His teammates shouted what must have been his name – "Sena!" – and rushed to his side. I watched this little drama unfold, knowing that I was at least costing them precious time.

"Is she really your mother?"

"She looked like her, but I'm not sure."

"Is that why you're all worked up?" The one with the claws stood. "Go find out, we'll take care of this."

His arrogance amazed me. "Take care of this?" I chuckled. True, this man had faced Schwarz, and the Elders of Esset. Why would he be afraid of me?

Releasing his claws, he snarled, "I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face!" He began to rush me.

Before his right foot hit the ground, he paused in mid-run, confused. "What?" He spun and struck, but I was not there.

Young Sena, however, was. The boy dodged more out of luck than skill, and then returned the attack, seeing not his own teammate, but me.

Their esteemed leader called out the boy's name and flung a handful of darts into the fray, nearly hitting the one with the claws.

That one jumped backward and cried out, "What are you doing! You're supposed to aim! He's over there!" He pointed, but not at me, at Sena.

Sena yelled at his teammate, "Ken, stay focused! He's got a knife pointed at you!"

The three were dancing to my will. Now all I had to do was find a way to lock them in here for a while, and things would take care of themselves. I didn't like being out of touch with my team for so long, especially under the circumstances.

With a low distant rumble, the building shook, nearly knocking me off balance. I blinked, startled, and my carefully arranged web fell away. I struggled to maintain what threads I could.

From the archer's thoughts I discerned a new voice, low and confident. A voice from my own nightmares. :He's on your left.:

I reacted by instinct, sweeping my arm in front of me as the lethal darts flew true. Desperate to cover my own fear, I ignored Weiß and spoke directly to the man who stood mere feet behind me. "Are you that upset that you didn't get invited to the party, Crawford?"

His speaking voice was as smooth as his mental voice as he replied, "It appears that the agents of Rosenkreuz have not learned how to address their superiors."

I swallowed. I had to keep up the bluff, so I turned slowly and asked, "What, should I have said 'pleased to meet you, my lord'?" The words caught in my throat as I saw him, looking exactly as he had in my dream: my own personal Moriarty, elegant and lethal.

He snorted a laugh. "Please. Such arrogance is unbecoming."

I couldn't think of a damn thing to say! Then words given to me long ago, when I was first assigned to hunt this man down, came flowing out of my mouth with the ease of a well-known script: "Are you so jealous of our powers, that you would confront us?" Oh, hell. That was the wrong thing to do, I knew it the moment the words were out. Now I had no choice but to fight.

Crawford addressed the men of Weiß. "You guys get out of here. You'll only be in the way."

I took a swing at him, my mind searching for any way out of this room.

Moving easily, Crawford blocked my attack and returned two. I was on the defensive, and he knew it. I wished Kiko were here, or even the Girl: they could stop Crawford with physical attacks, while I had to hope he was not immune to illusion.

I reached out to Crawford's mind, and pulled.

I must have surprised him; he fell into my mental trap with little struggle. Now we were on my turf, and he would not be so quick to block me. Here his foreknowing would not work. Here, was my world.

His shields were phenomenal, keeping me from the deepest parts of his mind with ease. Now that he was no longer startled, he rallied and fought back with unexpected strength. Still, he was in my territory now, and I hit him with everything I had.

Distantly I was aware of our bodies, standing toe to toe, unmoving. I saw the blood pooling in his eyes like crimson tears. But he did not surrender, nor did his resolve weaken. He withstood my attempts at bending his will, though it was killing his body to do so.

My concentration cracked as I felt more than heard a loud shriek, amplified by a massive current. The sudden distraction gave Crawford an opportunity, and he fought back with renewed vigor. Inwardly I staggered, frantically deflecting Crawford's tenacious attack while my mind reeled with the death of my teammate.

The longer this fight went on, the worse it would be for both of us. I wanted to bring this to an end, and quickly. But I needed something stronger, something personal, before I could reach the level of his mind that would render him vulnerable to me. Though I was not trained in telepathic assault, I knew the theory, and it was only a little more difficult than what I did by instinct. With extreme care, I divided my attention, setting part of it to keeping him from harming me, while the other part sought out his weaknesses.

We grappled like devils, like angels, each intent on disabling the other and neither having the proper resources to do so. I could feel my heart pounding, taste the sweat on my lips. Dimly I saw blood trickling from Crawford's eyes and ears, and gushing suddenly from his nose. His body must have taken a lot of abuse over the years; I doubted he could last much longer, no matter how strong his mind.

:Oh, God, _no,_ I'm scared, I don't want to die! _Berger! Can't we just -_: I felt Kiko's death. Something in my chest threatened to break loose and shatter. He had been like a little brother to me, the only person besides Toni I had ever truly cared about.

That meant I was the last. I would win, or I would die. It was that simple, had always been that simple. I found a new reserve of strength and tore inward, forcing my way past Crawford's remaining shields.

He buckled, his body reacting to the mental overload. I was looking for the key to him, the one secret he would die to keep from me. Not an old secret; something fresh, something relevant. The secret that could destroy him.

And I found it.


	21. Chapter 20 Godspeed

**Chapter Twenty - Godspeed**

Schuldig was dying.

I saw this for truth, and the wave of despair from Crawford confirmed it beyond any doubt. This was the secret of his heart, the key to his life, and his death: Schuldig, his beloved, was dying.

I saw, and I knew, and I could not turn it against him.

My own world began to shake apart as grief and loss assailed me, from Crawford, and from within. I saw his devotion, the long years of enforced companionship turning into something far more sacred. I saw the red-head's increasing frailty, his pallor, the pain and weakness consuming him from the inside.

I saw Brad Crawford's soul. It was screaming.

They had triumphed out of love, and now that love would destroy them both. Neither would live without the other, and neither now had very much time left.

Crawford's soul-bond touched an echo within me, pulling me off balance. Past and present collided as his agony became mine. _Toni, oh God how I miss you..._ My heart shuddered in my chest as remembered pain overwhelmed me. The loss of one so close as to touch your very essence is a horrendous thing, and this man I was fighting now faced such a loss as I had endured so long ago.

I startled into momentary clarity as I realized I had slipped. If Crawford had seen my memories of Toni, he would have the weapon of _my_ soul, and should he turn it against me I would be lost. Frantic, I tried to regain control of the battle.

A ripple interrupted the moment; another presence had joined us. No, two presences. A team link like no other I had ever encountered now engulfed me. I struggled to break free.

:Who is Toni: The mental voice seemed gentle, so gentle, and weary beyond belief. A touch, a caress, and my mind could not hold him out. The essence that was Schuldig flowed into me, through Crawford and with the strength of Nagi behind him.

He had me. My mind unfolded to Schuldig's touch. To my surprise, there was no pain, only sorrow.

And Toni.

_Toni, smiling brightly, raising my hand to his lips._

_Toni, fevered with passion, taken and taking._

Toni, lips brushing mine with unspoken promise.

Toni, dead and gone and lost to me forever.

Tears burned hot down my face and I knew the fight was over. :Well played, sir: I conceded to my Moriarty. :Well played.:

Schuldig's gentle telepathic caress brought up a lingering image of Toni's smile, and with it a remembered moment that I had never had the chance to share with him. _Josef,_ I had wanted to tell him. _I have always liked the name Josef._

Tears and blood fell in unseen rivers.

I felt Toni's arms enfold me, hold me, lift me up and away from all battles.

:Goodnight... Josef.: Schuldig's mental whisper bade me godspeed.

:Goodnight.:

* * *

To all, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.

If you'll indulge me, I'd like to answer all reviews posted through today here. Any reviews I get after today, I'll answer in my livejournal. Again, thank you all for reading!

GuiltyRed

**_Kasra_** – Ch 1: Please let me know what you thought of the final product. I loved writing it. Also, are you reading "Coming Home"? It's the Schwarz side of what happened after the tower, and it will take them up through Gluhen and beyond to whatever fate awaits them. It's a monster (HUGE!), covering at least 12 years after the tower (Gluhen happens around year number 8, in my world).

**_Silverfrost_** – Ch 3: Thank you. I'm also working on the Schwarz-fic "Coming Home" and the Weiss side of things, "The Rain Doesn't Grieve". (In the Schwarz fic, you'll find plenty of CxS up close and personal.)

I think you'll like how my other stories in this arc fit in together with this one (Gluhen's the big convergence, but…remember Warsaw?).

**_lily _**– Ch 4: You know, I hated having to let these characters go at the end of their story. Maybe in some alternate universe, they tossed the bitches to the sharks and moved in with Schu and Yotan in Amsterdam…

_**Romilly McAran**_ – Ch 8: Have you found my Schwarz fic "Coming Home" yet? (Yes, it's another shameless plug – I love all these guys and can't stop writing about them!) It's basically the story of how Schwarz came to be as they were in Gluhen: Crawford grey-haired, Schu…changed, Nagi working for Persia, and Farfarello…basically MIA. As for Side B, it's hard to find anything on them yet. Check out HopeForlorn; whatever they find, they post so other people can find it too – they have some translations and pics, but so far no fics. (In my world, weirdness abounds with KryptonBrand. I may or may not go into detail on that.)

_**eVe84**_ – Ch 10: If you find any other stories about those three Rosenkreuz ops, let me know, I'd love to see it.

**_May_** – Ch 12: It's not easy to write a story from the ending backward, but it is a very interesting way to figure out who the characters might have been, and let that flavor the entire tale. My primary question to myself while writing was, "why the hell are these guys there, fighting a team we as viewers know will defeat them?" Either they were incredibly arrogant and stupid, or terribly, disastrously trapped. ("If you come to Nihon…" Question is, trapped by what? Is that a hint of karma on the wind?)

– Ch 15: The first point of convergence between this story and "Coming Home" will be seventeen months after the fall of the tower. You remember a little something happening to some ops in Poland?

– Ch 16: I've learned that there are damn few "real" bad guys, just like there aren't many "real" good guys. "Black and white" only works on paper, literally (or a computer screen), and all else is some shade of grey.

– Ch 18: I don't want them to die, either! (Well, maybe the Girl…)

– Ch 19: Did I make you cry?

_**Kit3**_ – Ch 3, 12, 13: Thank you. I aim to entertain, and I trust I have done so with this fic. You'll notice the writing style is different in "Coming Home" and different still in "The Rain Doesn't Grieve". In each story, I try to capture the voice of the viewpoint character, in this case Josef Berger. His voice is low and quiet, with few extra words and lots of thought behind the ones that do appear. Contrast that with Schuldig in "Coming Home", a veritable potty-mouthed chatterbox with a huge ego and his heart on his sleeve.

**_MikaSamu_** – Ch 15: Do keep in mind, my three fics weave together, and there may be tidbits in one that do not appear in the others but affect them nonetheless. For example, Berger knew some things that (as of chapter 48 in "Coming Home") Schuldig does not know, but they are still important to my characters – perhaps even more so, as they are unknown complications at this time.

**_ITSAME_** – Ch 20: Thank you, I'm so glad you like. I hope my ending came as a natural conclusion, one with more meaning than they had in the show. When "Coming Home" reaches the Gluhen timeline, you'll see those ops through the eyes of Schwarz, and you may be surprised at what Berger did not know…


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